























. 
























Ik 



Oratory 

Sacred and Secular 



(frtcmjroraiuons ^eahcr, 



SKETCHES OF THE MOST EMINENT SPEAKERS OF ALL AGES. 

J 

By WILLIAM PITTENGER, 

Author of "Daring and Suffering." 



INTRODUCTION BY HON. JOHN A. BINGHAM, 

\ 



APPENDIX 

CONTAINING A " CHAIRMAN'S GUIDE" FOR CONDUCTING PUBLIC MEETINGS ACCORDING 
TO THE BEST PARLIAMENTARY MODELS. 




SAMUEL R. WELLS, PUBLISHER, 380 BROADWAY. 

18GS. 






Entered according to Act. of Congress, in the year 1868, 

By SAMUEL R. WELLS. 

In the Clerk'B Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern 

District of New York. 



EDWARD O. JENKINS, 
PRINTER AND STEREOTYPER, 

SO North William Street. 



PREFACE. 

When we first began to speak in public, we felt the need 
of a manual that would point out the hindrances likely to 
be met with, and serve as a guide to self-improvement. 
Such help would have prevented many difficult and painful 
experiences, and have rendered our progress in the de- 
lightful art of coining thought into words more easy and 
rapid. In the following pages we give the result of 
thought and observations in this field, and trust it will 
benefit those who are now in the position we were then. 

We have freely availed ourself of the labor of others, 
and would especially acknowledge the valuable assistance 
derived from the writings of Bautain, Stephens and Holy- 
oake. Yet the following work, with whatever merit or 
demerit it may possess, is original in both thought and 
arrangement. 

We have treated general preparation with more than 
ordinary fullness, for although often neglected, it is the 
necessary basis upon which all special preparation rests. 

As the numerous varieties of speech differ in compara- 
tively few particulars, we have treated one of the most 



IV PREFACE. 

common — that of preaching — in detail, with only such 
brief notices of other forms as will direct the student in 
applying general principles to the branch of oratory that 
engages his attention. 

We are not vain enough to believe that the modes of 
culture and preparation pointed out in the following pages 
are invariably the best, but they are such as we have found 
useful, and to the thoughtful mind may suggest others still 
more valuable. 



CONTENTS 



PREFACE. — Objects of the Work stated 3 

INTRODUCTION — By Hon. John A. Bingham, Member of 

Congress ^ 

PART I . — GENERAL PEEP ABA TI0N8. 

CHAPTER I. 
The Written and Extempore Discourse Compared — Illus- 
trative Examples 13 

CHAPTER II. 

Prerequisites — Intellectual Competency ; Strength of Body ; 

Command of Language ; Courage ; Firmness ; Self-reliance. ... 18 

CHAPTER III. 

Basis of Speech — Thought and Emotion ; Heart Cultivation ; 

Earnestness 27 

CHAPTER IV. 

Acquirements — General Knowledge ; of Bible; of Theology; of 

Men ; Method by which such Knowledge may be obtained.. . 34 

CHAPTER V. 

Cultivation — Imagination ; Language ; Voice ; Gesture ; Confi- 
dence ; References to Distinguished Orators and Writers 42 

PART II. — A SERMON. 

CHAPTER I. 

The Foundation for a Preacher — Subject ; Object; Text; 

Hints to Young Preachers 65 



VI CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER II. 



The Plan — Gathering Thought ; Arranging ; Committing ; 

Practical Suggestions ; Use of Notes 80 

CHAPTER III. 

Preliminaries for Preaching — Fear; Vigor; Opening Exer- 
cises ; Requisites for a Successful Discourse. 96 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Divisions — Introduction, Difficulties in Opening ; Discus- 
sion, Simplicity and Directness ; Conclusion 104 

CHAPTER V. 

After Considerations — Success; Rest; Improvement; Practi- 
cal Suggestions 115 

PART III. — SEC ULAR ORATORY. 
CHAPTER I. 

Instructive Address — Fields of Oratory ; Oral Teaching ; Lec- 
turing 123 

CHAPTER II. 

Miscellaneous Address — Deliberative ; Legal ; Popular ; Con- 
troversial ; the Statesman ; the Lawyer ; the Lecturer ; the 
Orator 127 

PART IV. 

Eminent Speakers Described — St. Augustine ; Luther ; Lord 
Chatham ; William Pitt ; Edmund Burke ; Mirabeau ; Patrick 
Henry ; George Whitefield ; John Wesley ; Sidney Smith ; F. 
W. Robertson ; Henry Clay ; Henry B. Bascom ; John Sum- 
merfield ; C. H. Spurgeon ; Henry Ward Beecher ; Anna E. 
Dickinson ; John A. Bingham ; William E. Gladstone ; Mat- 
thew Simpson ; Wendell Phillips ; John P. Durbin ; New- 
man Hall, and others 133 

APPENDIX. 

The Chairman's Guide — How to Organise and Conduct Pub- 
lic Meetings and Debating Clubs in Parliamentary style 199 




INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 

r M. Pittenger : Cadiz, O., 19th Nov., 1357. 

Dear Sir,— I thank you for calling my attention to your forth- 
coming work on Extemporaneous Speaking. Unwritten speech is, 
in my judgment, the more efficient method of public speaking, be- 
cause it is the natural method. The written essay, says an eminent 
critic of antiquity, "is not a speech, unless you choose to call epis- 
tles speeches." A cultivated man, fully possessed of all the facts 
which relate to the subject of which he would speak, who cannot 
clearly express himself without first memorising word for word his 
written preparation, can scarcely be called a public speaker, whatever 
may be his capacity as a writer or reader. The speaker who clothes 
his thoughts at the moment of utterance, and in the presence of his 
hearers, will illustrate by his speech the admirable saying of Seneca : 
4 Fit words better than fine ones." 

It is not my purpose to enter upon any inquiry touching the gifts, 
culture and practice necessary to make a powerful and successful 
speaker. It is conceded that in the art of public speaking, as in all 
other arts, there is no excellence without great labor. Neither is it 
the intent of the writer to suggest the possibility of speaking effi- 
ciently without the careful culture of voice and manner, of intellect 
and heart, an exact knowledge of the subject, and a careful arrange- 
ment, with or without writing, of all the facts and statements in- 
volved in the discussion. Lord Brougham has said that a speech 
written before delivery is regarded as something almost ridiculous ; 
may we not add, that a speech made without previous reflection or an 
accurate knowledge of the subject, would be regarded as a mere tink- 
ling cymbal. I intend no depreciation of the elaborate written 
essay read for the instruction or amusement of an assembly ; but 
claim that the essay, read, or recited from memory, is not speech, 
nor can it supply the place of natural effective speech. The essay 
delivered is but the echo of the dead past, the speech is the 
utterance of the living present. The delivery of the essay is the 
formal act of memory, the delivery of the unwritten speech the 
living act of intellect and heart. The difference between the two is 
known and felt of all men. To all this it may be answered that the 
ancient speakers, whose fame still survives, carefully elaborated 
their speeches before delivery. The fact is admitted with the fur- 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

ther statement, that many of the speeches of the ancient orators 
never were delivered at all. Five of the seven orations of Cicero 
against Verres were never spoken, neither was the second Philippic 
against Mark Antony, nor the reported defence of Milo. We admit 
that the ancient speakers wrote much and practised much, and we 
would commend their example, in all, save a formal recital of written 
preparations. There is nothing in all that has come to us concern- 
ing ancient oratory, which by any means proves that to be effective 
in speech, what is to be said should be first written and memorised ; 
there is much that shows, that to enable one to express his own 
thoughts clearly and forcibly, reflection, culture and practice are 
essential. 

Lord Brougham, remarking on the habit of writing speeches, 
says : " That a speech written before delivery is something anoma- 
lous, and a speech intended to have been spoken is a kind of by- 
word for something laughable in itself, as describing an incongruous 
existence." This distinguished man, in his careful consideration of 
this subject, says : k * We can hardly assign any limits to the effects 
of great practise in giving a power of extempore composition,'' and 
notices that it is recorded of Demosthenes, that when, upon some 
rare occasions, he trusted to the feeling of the hour, and spoke off- 
hand, " his eloquence was more spirited and bold, and he seemed 
sometimes to speak from a supernatural impulse." If this be true 
of the great Athenian who notoriously would not, if he could avoid 
it, trust to the inspiration of the moment, and who for want of a 
prepared speech, we are told by iEschines, failed before Philip, — 
might it not be inferred that one practised in speaking, would utter 
his thoughts with more spirit and power when not restrained by a 
written preparation and fettered by its formal recital ? 

Did not Fox often, in the Parliament, achieve the highest results 
of speech without previous written preparation; and is it not a 
fact never to be questioned, that the wonderful speech of Webster, 
in reply to Hayne, was unwritten ? , 

In his admirable lecture on Eloquence, Mr. Emerson says : " Elo- 
quence that so astonishes, is only the exaggeration of a talent that is 
universal. All men are competitors in this art. * * A man of 
this talent finds himself cold in private company, and proves him- 
self a heavy companion; but give him a commanding occasion, and 
the inspiration of a great multitude, and he surprises us by new and 
unlooked for powers." * * 

Indeed, there is in this lecture of Mr. Emerson, in few words, 



INTRODUCTION. 9 

much to sustain your theory. He says, " the word eloquence strictly 
means out-speaking ; the main power, sentiment — the essential fact 
is heat, the heat which comes of sincerity. Speak what you know 
and believe, and are personally answerable for. This goes by weight 
and measure, like everything else in the universe. A man to be elo- 
quent must have faith in his subject, and must have accurate know- 
ledge of that subject. * * The author of power — he is the 
great man who always makes a divine impression, a sentiment more 
powerful in the heart than love of country, and gives perceptions 
and feelings far beyond the limits of thought. Eloquence is the 
power to translate a truth into a language perfectly intelligible to 
the person to whom you speak. Such a practical conversion of 
truth, written in God's language, is one of the most beautiful wea- 
pons forged in the shop of the Divine Artificer. God and Nature are 
altogether sincere, and art should be as sincere." How can sincerity 
be fully attained in the great art of public speeeh, if every word to be 
uttered must be previously written down in the closet, and memo- 
rized and recited ? Was not Lord Brougham right in saying a speech 
written before delivery is inconsistent with the inspiration of the 
moment, and the feelings under which the orator is always supposed 
to speak ? What feelings ? The felt-conviction of the truth of what 
he has to say. What inspiration ? The inspiration which, at the mo- 
ment, clothes and expresses the honest thought in appropriate 
words. 

Surely the living voice, rightly cultivated, and rightly employed, 
is a power in the world, and to condemn you for calling attention to 
what you believe to be the most efficient method of human speech, 
would be one of those decisions of ignorant arrogance which it 
costs no labor and needs no intellect to pronounce. 

Is not the man who well and truthfully speaks his own thoughts, 
as Shakspeare and Bacon wrote, in some sense their peer ? Is not 
the mere reciter of their words, but their shadow ? 

It is said of Plato, that he poured forth the flood of his eloquence 
as by inspiration, and that, had the Father of the gods spoken in 
Greek, he would have used none other language than Plato's ; and 
yet this master of language takes pains, in reporting the apology of 
Socrates on trial for his life, to represent him as saying that it would 
not become him to speak " studied terms and expressions, but only 
the truth expressed in the plainest language." I quote the words of 
Socrates as given by Plato : 

"Among the false statements which my accusers made, there 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

was one at which I especially marveled, namely when they warned 
you to take care not to be led astray by me, inasmuch as I was 
a powerful speaker. It did appear to me supremely audacious in 
them to make such an assertion, which must immediately after- 
wards be disproved by the fact ; for you will see that I have no 
skill in speaking, unless they call a man a powerful speaker be- 
cause he says what is true. If they mean this, I certainly must 
allow that I am a speaker of a very different kind from them ; for 
they, as I have said, have not spoken a word of truth ; from me you 
shall hear the whole truth ; and that not clothed in ornate sentences 
with studied terms and expressions ; you will have from me fjlain 
facts expressed in the plainest language. Indeed, Athenians, it 
would ill become me at my age to come before you with a studied 
discourse like a boy. And there is one thing, O Athenians, which I 
must beg and entreat of you : if I use, in my defense, the same terms 
which I have been accustomed to use in the market-place and in the 
shops where most of you have heard me talking, do not wonder at 
that, nor take offence. For this is the fact, I now enter a court of 
justice for the first time, though I am more than seventy years old ; 
I am, therefore, altogether strange to the kind of language used here ; 
and therefore excuse me, as if I really were a stranger, if I speak to 
you in that tone and in that manner in which I have been brought 
up. I ask you a thing which is, I think, reasonable, that you take 
no account of the manner of my address to you — it might be better, it 
might be worse, perhaps — but to consider this, to attend to this, 
whether I say what is right or not, for that is the virtue of the 
judge, as to speak truly is the virtue of the advocate." 

No matter if the speech be not clothed in ornate sentences with 
studied terms, it is the virtue of the judge to consider whether the 
speech is right, as to speak truly is the virtue of the advocate. 

It is only, it seems to me, when men speak wisely, truly and natu- 
rally, that the full significance of Quintillian's words can be rea- 
lized : " May I perish, if the all-powerful Creator of nature and the 
Architect of this world has impressed man with any character which 
so eminently distinguishes him as the faculty of speech." Let him 
who would use this faculty effectively, and attain to that great power 
which rules the minds of men, and moves the passions and affec- 
tions of the soul, see to it, that he speaks what he knows and 
believes, plainly and directly from the heart to the heart. 

Very truly your friend, 

JOHN A. BINGHAM. 



PART I. 



GENERAL PREPARATION. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE WRITTEN AND EXTEMPORE DISCOURSE COMPARED. 

The special object of the following pages is to show the 
manner and requirements of extempore preaching. But as 
this differs from other methods of speech in its objects rather 
than in its external qualities, many of the thoughts we pre- 
sent will apply as well to the bar and forum as to the sacred 
desk. 

There is need that this subject should be enforced, par- 
ticularly on the ministry. A growing desire is manifested 
to give up plain, direct speech, and indulge in the ease and 
certainty of written sermons. Young men find themselves 
in places where it requires unwearied exertion to sustain their 
reputation, and satisfy the demands of a cultivated audience. 
They begin to fear that their spoken sermons may be defici- 
ent in polish and style, and at last they write. The people 
nearly always protest against the innovation, but to no pur- 
pose, for having convinced himself that he is right, the min- 
ister treats their murmurs as the effect of vulgar prejudice, 
and as a frequent result, his usefulness is permanently im- 
paired. 

This evil cannot be diminished by denouncing those who 
engage in it, for the supposed necessity they labor under is 
stronger than any other consideration. But it may be les- 
sened by showing that there is a better way, and making it 
plain. Such will be our endeavor. 

The two extremes of speech are, the discourse which is writ- 
ten and read verbatim, and that in which both words and 

(18) 



14 PREACHING— WRITTEN AND EXTEMPORE. 

thoughts are left to the impulse of the moment. Between 
these there are many intermediate grades. The latter may 
be excluded from the classification altogether, for no wise man 
will adopt it except in some unforeseen emergency. True ex- 
temporization relates to the words alone, and leaves full room 
for the complete preparation of thought. Between this and 
the manuscript discourse there are various compromises 
which seek to combine the advantages of both. These, for 
the sake of convenience, may be called the recited, compo- 
site, premeditated and sketched discourses. 

It is useless to deny that the method of writing in full 
and reading, possesses many and great advantages. It 
secures time for the consideration of every thought. If the 
mind fags, the writer can pause until it is rested and begin 
again ; and in this way all the ideas and expressions that oc- 
cur for several days can be concentrated into one sermon. 
Then it can be revised, and the language improved to an in- 
definite extent, and the sermon, in its completeness, laid away 
for future use. 

But there are great disadvantages. Such a sermon may, 
by solidity of thought, and brilliancy of expression, command 
approval, but it will seldom move and sway the people. The 
very idea that all has been written out, and is merely read, 
will tend powerfully to neutralize its effects. We may re- 
monstrate against this if we will, and declare that our ser- 
mons should be judged by their substance, but this does not 
abate the preference of our auditors. They will retort, with 
truth, that they can read even better sermons at home, and 
dwell on them at their leisure. What they want in preach- 
ing is the living sympathy and guidance of the preacher ; 
his soul burning and glowing, and thus lighting up other 
souls ; his eye beaming on theirs ; his clear, far-seeing mind, 
excited by the magnetism of truth, and appealing to their 
hearts with an earnestness that will take no denial. This fills 
the popular ideal of preaching, and no elaboration, no word 
music will atone for the want of it. Men of great gpnius 
may succeed otherwise, but the mass of speakers cannot. 



PREACHING — WRITTEN AND EXTEMPORE. 15 

The plan of memorizing and reeiting sermons would seem, 
upon a superficial view, to secure the advantages of reading 
without its defects. But another and formidable class of 
disadvantages come into being. Very few men can declaim 
well. For one who can speak from memory with ease and 
naturalness, twenty can pour forth their ideas in the words 
of the moment with energy and effect. A few have mas- 
tered the difficult art, and won enduring laurels in this 
way, but their number is too small to encourage others to 
imitation. 

This practice also imposes a heavy burden on the mind. 
To write and commit two or three sermons in a week, is a 
task that only those who are strong in mental and physical 
health can perform with impunity, and even then it requires 
too much time ; for no matter how perfect a minister's sermons 
may be, unless he fulfills other duties, he cannot be wholly 
successful. Most preachers who memorize, inevitably neglect 
pastoral work because they have not time for it. And 
another effect follows that is, if possible, still worse. Instead 
of growing daily in knowledge by diligent study, the mind 
is kept on the tread-wheel task of writing and committing 
sermons, and thus permanently dwarfed. A young man may 
take a higher rank at first by memorizing, than otherwise, 
but he will not retain it long, for the knowledge others ac- 
cumulate while he is conning his discourses, will soon place 
them above him. 

The practice of committing brilliant passages to be recited 
with the eyes withdrawn from the paper, or thrown into the 
current of unpremeditated discourse, we have termed the 
composite manner. It is open to all the objections urged 
against the last method, and a most formidable one in addi- 
tion — the difficulty of making these sudden flashes fit into 
their proper places, and of preventing them from destroying 
the unity of the whole discourse. They differ so w r idely from 
the rest of the composition, that the audience are apt to see 
the artifice and despise it. A skillful man may join them pro- 
perly, but even then his own attention, and that of the au- 



16 PREACHING — WRITTEN AND EXTEMPORE. 

dience will, probably, be so closely fixed upon them that the 
main design of the sermon will pass out of sight. 

These three varieties are much alike, and may be called 
branches of the word-preparation method. In them, words 
are carefully chosen, and form the groundwork of discourse. 
The next three are based on thought. 

The premeditated discourse comes nearest to the word 
method. It was the medium of the wonderful eloquence of 
the late Bishop Bascom. In it the ideas are first arranged, 
and then each thought pondered until it resolves itself into 
words, which are mostly recalled in the moment of speech. 
Men who speak thus usually have great command of lan- 
guage and much fixity of impression. Those who receive 
ideas readily, and lose them again as easily, could not adopt 
this method, for words previously arranged could not be 
recalled in the same order, unless they had been fixed by 
the pen. There is little objection to this mode of prepara- 
tion in the case of those who are adapted to it, provided 
they do not carry it so far as to feel burdened or confused. 
No words should be left in charge of the memory, and no 
conscious effort made to recall particular expressions. 

Stephens, in his admirable book called "Preaching Re- 
quired by the Times," advises ministers, when revolving and 
arranging their ideas, not to let them run into words. We can 
see no ill effect in this, provided the result is a natural one. 
All the words must be retained easily in the memory, and 
not sought for if they do not spontaneously present them- 
selves in the act of speech. President Lincoln, who was a 
most effective off-hand speaker, said, that he owed his skill in 
this art to the early practice of reducing every thought he 
entertained to the plainest and simplest words. Then when 
he desired to enunciate an idea he had no difficulty in giving 
it a form that even a child could understand. 

The sketched discourse approaches very closely to the 
purely extempore method, and only differs from it in writing 
the whole matter in full, with no care for style, simply to 
practice in the art of expression, and to test our mastery of 



PREACHING — WRITTEN AND EXTEMPORE. 17 

the plan arranged. In it there is no intention of memorizing, 
or of using the same words again, except so far as the ideas 
in their simplest form may suggest them. This is only doing 
on paper what, in the last method, was done mentally. It 
may be of great advantage to those who have had but a lim- 
ited experience, and cannot so clearly grasp their ideas in 
the domain of pure thought as to be sure that they are 
fully adapted to the purposes of their sermons. 

But at the slow r rate of writing in the common hand, 
this requires too much time. If a person have mastered 
Phonography, or Tachygraphy, a valuable improvement of 
the former, more easily acquired and retained in practice, he 
may write a sermon in little more than the time it will take 
to preach it, if he only work at full speed and do not stay 
for the niceties of style. Then the defects in the arrangement 
or material, that before escaped his attention, will be brought 
to light. We can judge a sermon more impartially when it 
is placed outside of the mind, than if it w^ere only mentally 
reviewed, and w r e still have time to correct whatever may be 
amiss. 

But the great method of which the two former are mere 
branches, and which in fact underlies every other, is that of 
pure extemporization. In this there is a firm, compact road 
of previously prepared thought leading directly to the object 
aimed at. When thus speaking, we always feel on solid 
ground, and each moment have the proper, selected idea, seek- 
ing expression, and clothing itself in the needed words. 
All men talk thus, and we cannot but regard it as the highest 
form of oratory. When we have obtained complete mastery 
of expression, and the ability to so arrange facts and ideas, 
that at the fitting moment they will resolve themselves into 
words, the high problem of eloquence is in a great measure 
solved. 



CHAPTER H 

PREREQUISITES — INTELLECTUAL COMPETENCY — STRENGTH OF 
BODY COMMAND OF LANGUAGE COURAGE — FIRMNESS. 

Almost every speaker has at some time longed to obtain 
the golden power of eloquence. It always insures to its for- 
tunate possessor a strong influence in the affairs of men. It 
is needed in the promotion of every reform, and is the only 
means by which the minds of a community can be at once 
moved in a new direction. When employed in the service 
of error and injustice it is like a fallen archangel's power for 
evil. But its highest and purest sphere is in the promul- 
gation of revealed truth. It there brings the word of God 
into living contact with the souls of men, and by it molds 
them into a higher life. It is sublime to be a co-worker with 
God, and thus assist him in peopling heaven. 

Only the method of eloquence can be taught. Its refined 
and ethereal substance lies beyond the reach of all art. No 
preacher can be truly eloquent without the baptism of the 
Holy Spirit, and even the excited passion and burning enthu- 
siasm which are the human sources of this quality, can be 
acquired by no formularies. But they may be developed 
and properly directed where a capability for them exists. In 
this respect there is the widest difference of talent. Some 
men never can attain the wondrous power of swaying their 
fellow-beings. Others are born orators. The latter class is 
small, and it is never safe to conclude that we belong to it 
until the fact has been incontestibly proved. Neither is the 
class of incapables very large. The great mass of men lie 

(IB) 



PREREQUISITES. 19 

between the extremes. Their talents do not make them 
great in spite of themselves ; but if they make the proper ef- 
fort, and are favored by circumstances, they may become 
effective, and even eloquent speakers. To these it is of great 
importance to have the right road pointed out, along which 
they may travel, and by earnest toil gain the desired end. 
There is no " royal road" to eloquence, but here, as elsewhere, 
application and study will produce their proper effects. Yet 
certain prerequisites must be received from God himself, 
without which all cultivation will be vain as the attempt to 
fertilize the sands of the seashore. 

The first quality to which we will refer, is intellectual 
competency. By this, we mean a strength of intellect that 
can grasp an idea, and form a complete image of it ; one 
who is not able to think out a subject in its leading features, 
cannot speak on it, and if the deficiency be general, he is un- 
fitted to speak in public at all. We would not assert that 
none but men of commanding intelligence can profitably ad- 
dress their fellow-beings. It is not even necessary that the 
orator should be above the average of mental power pos- 
sessed by his audience. Franklin was entranced by the 
preaching of Whitefield, though in grasp and compass of mind 
almost infinitely his superior. A man of comparative dull- 
ness may, by brooding over a particular subject, so master 
it, that the greatest intellect will listen to him with reverence 
and profit. The great German poet, Goethe, said, that he 
met few men from whom he did not learn something valu- 
able. But no man ought to address the people unless he can 
clearly comprehend the nature of his subject, mark out its 
limitations, understand its relations to other subjects, and 
so arrange and simplify it as to convey these ideas to his 
hearers. The Christian minister has to deal with a great 
variety of topics, and requires mind enough to grasp not 
one only, but many subjects. 

It is hard to determine just how much mental power is 
required to secure a moderate degree of success as an orator. 
No precise rules can be given on this point, and if they 



20 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

could, egotism would prevent each from applying them to 
himself however correctly he might gauge his neighbor. 
The presumptuous would do well to remember that oratory 
is the highest of all arts, and to measure themselves with 
becoming humility; perhaps the following questions may aid 
in self-examination. Can you grasp an idea firmly ? can you 
follow its ramifications, perceive its shades of meaning, and 
render it familiar in all its bearings ? Can you analyze it 
clearly, so that each separate part will be understood by it- 
self, and then again link these together and make each serve 
as a stepping-stone to the comprehension of that which fol- 
lows ? If you can do this with a single subject, you have 
the mental power to speak on that subject ; if on all, or many 
of the subjects of the Christian religon, vast and varied as 
they are, you can preach. No deficiency of intellectual 
power or originality need dishearten you. 

The fact of the close and mutual influence of body and 
mind is beyond dispute, although their connection is a sub- 
ject of deep mystery. When we see how much the faculties 
of reason and imagination — nay, even of hope, love, and faith 
— are affected by bodily conditions, we can only exclaim 
with the Psalmist, " I am fearfully and wonderfully made." 
Especially is this mutual dependence forced upon the attention 
of the extempore speaker. In every effort he feels the subtle 
effect of physical causes, and often under the pressure of 
disease, strives in vain to realize the grand but intangible 
thoughts that float through his brain. The body is the in- 
strument of the mind in its communication with the outward 
world, and even if the most sublime and glorious conceptions 
existed within, they would be powerless if the bodily organs 
were unequal to the task of expressing them. 

A dumb man cannot be an orator, no matter how richly 
endowed ; and all other bodily defects will be felt as hin- 
drances even if they fall short of the deprivation of an organ 
of sense. The preacher needs to be a completely developed 
man physically, as well as mentally, though he may succeed 
in spite of many disadvantages. Feeble health will always 



PREREQUISITES. 21 

detract from his power. The mind may for a time rise su- 
perior to it, but a crushing recoil will follow. This takes 
place when the ill-health is not extreme ; but when it fetters 
the ability of expression, and prevents the manifestation ot 
living power, the barrier is absolute. Many ministers utterly 
fail, because they forget that eloquence is the ofispring of 
health ; others, perhaps, still more unfortunate have battled 
against disease and bodily infirmity for years, and yet have 
been doomed to feel, amid their brightest aspirations, that a 
power beyond their control was conquering them. It is ter- 
rible to sit helpless, and see a cloud stealing over the bright- 
ness of genius, and shading the whole future of life. Yet 
this has been the experience of thousands. We remember 
an impressive illustration of this in the case of one who pos- 
sessed the richest endowments. He was almost unequaled 
as a pulpit orator, yet, in the middle of life, saw his powers 
of usefulness withdrawn, and his fame fading — only because 
his body could not bear the strain he unwisely put upon it. 

In view of the many facts of this kind, it would be well 
for the man who aspires to eminence in the fields of elo- 
quence, to examine himself, and see if he have the needed 
physical strength. With some the incapacity is no doubt 
total. How many ministers have had their light turned into 
darkness by a diseased throat, a cerebral affection, or a nerv- 
ous disorder? But the majority of men only need care and 
obedience to the laws of life to bring their bodies up to the 
standard of efficiency. In youth, at least, there is nothing 
so easily improved as health. By the golden rule of temper- 
ance in all things — in voice and thought, as well as food and 
drink — nearly all may render the body adequate to the mani- 
festation of mind. 

To an orator, the power of readily clothing his thoughts 
in words is indispensable. Language is the dress of ideas — 
the means by which they are communicated to others. The 
thoughts that arise in our minds resolve themselves into 
words as naturally as the clouds do into falling showers. 
We use words to some degree in our most secret medita- 



22 EXTEMPOEE SPEAKING. 

tions, and whenever the latter become clear and well defined 
they fall into language without conscious effort. To cause 
them to do this with precision and certainty is one of the 
problems of extempore speech. The thought is prepared in 
advance, but is to be coined into words at the moment. If 
the faculty of language is weak this cannot be done without 
such hesitation and embarrassment as greatly to diminish 
the effect ; but if strong, a tide of words will be poured 
forth without apparent effort. Even in common conversa- 
tion, a wide difference in point of fluency may be observed. 
In fact, it was this which gave Gall the first hint that led to 
the establishment of Phrenology. 

No doubt this faculty may be greatly cultivated and im- 
proved, but when its original strength is very small, it can 
not, probably, be made available for ready and powerful 
speech. There are persons whose voices seem to have no 
defect, who cannot learn to sing ; others, with eyes perfectly 
organized, are unable to distinguish between colors. The 
power of language may be equally deficient in an otherwise 
well-constituted mind. We once knew a man who could 
not find the words necessary to make the most common 
statement without long and embarrassed pauses. He for- 
got the names of his nearest neighbors ; and, when telling 
a story, required perpetual prompting wherever names oc- 
curred, and would often hesitate until some every-day term 
was suggested to him. No cultivation would have made 
him a speaker. He had as much education as his neighbors 
around, and was not remarkably dull. He was simply an 
almost wordless man. Many persons suffer in the same 
manner, though but few to the same degree. 

But the mere fact that a man is slow of speech is no bar 
even to the highest eminence as an orator. The proper test 
of the power of this faculty is in common conversation. 
There one feels perfectly at ease, and deals with matters he 
understands. If he have but a moderate share of fluency, 
he will have no difficulty in conveying his ideas. But if he 
does experience such difficulty, it shows a radical defect 



PREREQUISITES. 23 

which art can never remove. But we should not be discour- 
aged if it is hard to find appropriate words when speaking 
on unfamiliar subjects, for we cannot have words to express 
ideas before possessing the ideas themselves ! 

Those who are deficient in language, but have strong 
powers of thought, are almost the only persons who really 
find relief in writing and reading their sermons. If they 
have time to wait, the right word may come to them, or 
they can search through dictionaries for it ; but in the hurry 
of speech there is no such leisure for selection. They have 
some excuse for writing, though it will still be questionable 
whether it would not be better for them to dash ahead with 
the loss of some precision, or if this cannot be done, abandon 
altogether a profession for which they are so obviously un- 
fitted. 

A man must have a degree of courage to place himself 
within reach of any danger, and remain there. If he be 
destitute of it, he will resign the hope of victory rather than 
encounter the perils by which it may be won. It is needed 
in extempore speaking as well as in any species of physical 
danger, for the perils to be encountered are not less terrible. 
To some sensitive minds these even amount to a species of 
martyrdom. They go to the desk trembling in every limb, 
and would feel wonderfully relieved if they could exchange 
their position for the tented field, where the warfare would 
be of the body only, and not of the spirit. Some of the 
greatest orators have never been able to entirely overcome 
this feeling, although they may have been free from the fear 
of failure. 

But it is difficult to be perfectly assured even against fail- 
ure. " There is nothing so fitful as eloquence," says the 
Abbe Bautain, who was well qualified to judge. The prac- 
ticed and prepared orator does not often dread losing com- 
mand of words altogether, and being obliged to close before 
the proper time, but fears that his rich and glowing concep- 
tions may fade, and his high ideal be unattained. 

Mere boldness does not suffice to protect a speaker from 



24 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

these dangers. Of what avail is a man's courage if his brain 
be clouded and his tongue paralyzed ? He cannot brave the 
consequences, for the power of ridicule is too keen for any 
armor — at least when it comes in such a concentrated vol- 
ume as falls on the head of the unfortunate speaker who can 
not finish what he has begun. At such a time the boaster's 
fate is worst of all ; for, while others are pitied, he is crushed 
beneath the scorn and triumph of his audience. There is no 
positive guard against failure. Public speaking is a modern 
battle, in which the most skillful warrior may be stricken 
down by a random bullet — the bravest slain by a coward ! 

What then is the benefit of courage ? We have placed it 
in the list of essential qualities, and believe the orator can- 
not succeed without it. It does not operate by rendering 
failure impossible, or even materially reducing the risk, but 
by enabling us to endure all danger and press on. Bonaparte 
said that most generals failed in one point — they delayed to 
attack when it became necessary to fight a great battle. 
The issue was so uncertain — so far beyond the reach of human 
wisdom — that they hesitated and deliberated until the favor- 
able moment had passed forever. In war this timid policy 
courts destruction, by permitting the adversary to choose 
his own time to strike. The same principle governs in other 
affairs. The risk must be taken. A man of courage derives 
new lessons from his failures, and makes them the introduc- 
tion to future triumphs. Especially in the field of oratory 
is there no possibility of success, if this indomitable, perse- 
vering spirit be wanting. Many persons of excellent talents 
have been condemned to perpetual silence, because they 
would not endure the perils of speech. Men who have instruc- 
ted the world by their pens, and in the privacy of the social 
circle have charmed their friends by the magic of their con- 
versation, have never spoken in public because they shrunk 
from the inevitable hazard. There is no difficulty in determin- 
ing whether we possess this quality or not. Let the trial be 
made, and if we do not abandon our posts and incur disgrace 
rather than speak, we have all the boldness that is needed. 



PREREQUISITES. 25 

The quality of firmness in oratory is sometimes under- 
valued. While steady, persevering industry, working to- 
ward a definite end, is known to be essential in everything 
else, in this field genius is often supposed to be sufficient. 
There never was a greater mistake. Xature does lay the 
foundation broad and deep for some men, but they must build 
diligently upon it to make their gifts availing. The way to 
eminence, even for the favored few, is long and hard, requir- 
ing deep thought and earnest striving, and without a strong 
purpose fixed in the very beginning, and firmly adhered to 
through years of labor, there is slight chance of success. 
A few persons have risen to eminence without appearing to 
pay the price for it, but such exceptions are more apparent 
than real. There are times of great excitement, when some 
one before unknown is able to speak so as to fix the eyes of 
the nation upon himself, but unless he has been previously 
prepared, and continues to put forth resolute effort, his suc- 
cess is but transitory. 

The career of Patrick Henry is adduced as an instance of 
success without labor. He had little education in the schools, 
but learned much from Nature herself. His observation 
was tireless. It is said, that when he kept a country store, 
he would sit and question his customers by the hour, 
causing them to display their various dispositions. He was 
thus learning to play upon the human heart, and as this was 
only one manifestation of a ruling passion, it doubtless took 
a hundred other forms. When on those long hunting ex- 
cursions in the beautiful valley of Virginia, how many deep 
and ineffaceable impressions must have been made on his 
mind. He had a peerless genius, yet all we can learn of him 
leads us to believe that he cultivated it to the utmost, at least 
as applied to. oratory. 

The familiar examples of Demosthenes and Cicero are not 
solitary ones. All who have acquired the power of effective 
speech have toiled long and patiently. The poor,, weak 
waverer can never be an orator in the highest sense of the 
term, however he may, on special occasions, flash into mo- 



26 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

mentary brilliancy. And as the minister of the Gospel must 
cultivate the most difficult field of eloquence, we advise no 
one to attempt preaching who is not conscious of a strong, 
unchangeable purpose — a purpose that will bear delay, dis- 
couragement and weary waiting. 

Of course, the nature of all the results obtained through 
our firmness will depend on the direction of our efforts. If 
personal ambition, or pecuniary profit be the object toward 
which we bend our energies, the grand and holy character 
of the Christian ministry will be lost sight of. But let our 
aim be unselfish, and our success will be pure and noble. 

To him who has a mind to conceive, a body with strength 
to execute, language to coin the mass of thoughts into 
words, courage to bear the scrutiny of a thousand eyes, and 
firmness that will endure the toil of preparation — to him the 
upward pathway is clear. He may not win great fame, but 
he will be able to present the truth in its native beauty, and 
make his words fall with weight and power on the hearts of 
men. 



CHAPTER in. 

BASIS OF SPEECH — THOUGHT AND EMOTION HEART CUL- 
TIVATION. 

Thought and emotion are two prime elements in the mani- 
festations of mind. All the products of mental action, unless 
it be the mysterious power of will, are divided between 
them, and by them, through various means of expression, we 
reach and influence the outward world. 

Thought springs from the intellect, and acts upon the 
facts received from every source, retaining, arranging and 
modifying them at will. Feeling is the mind's response to 
all these, and comprises fear, love, hope, faith, hatred and all 
the sentiments and emotions that are described under the 
general name of " the heart." Speech is founded on these 
two elements, which meet and mingle in every human pro- 
duction, though seldom in the same proportion. The speaker 
who has greatest mastery of one, is often most deficient in 
the other. But if so, the whole range of eloquence is not 
open to him. He is only a half-developed orator, and his 
usefulness will be very much narrowed. 

A man of deep thought but sluggish emotion, may enchain 
the attention of an assembly by the novel and far-reaching 
views he presents and the ability with which he unfolds 
them, but the whole discourse will be dull and lifeless. He 
will find it very difficult to move his hearers to action. They 
may assent to every word he utters, and yet continue in their 
own course. Every minister's experience furnishes proof 
that it is not enough to convince, or it would be very easy 

(27) 



28 EXTEMPOKE SPEAKING. 

to convert the world. At times it is right to use the sword 
of intellect alone. In controversy, for example, a solid basis 
of reasoning must be laid before anything else can be done. 
But it is not always enough. Men are led as often by their 
sentiments and intuitions as by their judgments, and we are 
allowed to use all lawful means to win them. Even the 
pure light of truth is not always to be discovered through 
the intellect alone. A mere feeling of what is right, or just, 
or true, often leads, in an instant, to a conviction that all 
subsequent reasoning can only strengthen. The ideal orator, 
therefore, is one who, even in argument, can show the truth, 
and then, by a flash of heavenly sympathy, change our cold 
assent into fervent conviction. 

On the other hand, a man of predominant feeling may 
make us weep, but as we see no reason for it, we resist the 
emotion to the extent of our power. If we yield, a reaction 
follows, and we go away ashamed of what we cannot justify. 
Of this class were some of the early Methodist preachers — 
the weeping prophets, as they were termed. Their tears, 
and the feeling with which they spoke, were often irresisti- 
ble, and by the mere force of sympathy, men who had very 
little intellectual power were able to sway the passions of 
an audience at will. But had it not been for some of their 
brethren, who were men of thought as well as emotion — 
men who had clear heads to organize and combine, as well 
as tears to shed, the effect of their labor would have been 
evanescent as the emotions they excited. 

Continuity is a highly important quality of thought. All 
men think ; they cannot help it, for the mind is ever active. 
But with most these thoughts are but random flashes — illu- 
minated pictures — that arise for a moment, and then vanish 
to give place to others. Powerful thinking consists in hold- 
ing these scattered images together in a chain, and making 
them run uninterruptedly from one point to another. There 
is no man who does not at times catch glimpses of far-reach- 
ing, profound thoughts; but before he can combine them 
into harmony and place them in their proper relation to 



BASIS OF SPEECH. 20 

other thoughts, they disappear, and he may search long 
before he will find them again. All persons see the beauties 
of natural scenery, but it is only the poet who can repro- 
duce the scattered elements and combine them into a har- 
monious description. Only the true thinker can gather the 
fragments of thought that flash through the mind, and give 
them form and consistency. This power is indispensable to 
the speaker. He must give, not a mere gallery of pictures, 
however beautiful they may be, but a succession of thoughts, 
naturally connected, by which the mind advances step by 
step through the discourse, without jar or interruption. We 
will endeavor to give some directions for the acquisition of 
this power, as far as may be necessary in extempore speak- 
ing. The capability of thought must indeed be possessed 
or all cultivation will be vain ; but if the mind have any 
native vigor, it can learn to think consecutively and method- 
ically, even as the unskilled but perfectly organized hand 
may be taught to carve beautiful and complicated forms. 

As a general rule, men can be more easily moved by 
appeals made to their feelings than to their reason, and find 
the most masterly dissertation cold and lifeless unless re- 
lieved by some touches of humanity and passion. A man 
who does not possess true feeling cannot so counterfeit it as 
as to reach the hearts of others, but he may, in a great 
measure, transform his own nature and acquire it. The 
most essential qualification for a religious teacher is a deep 
personal religious experience. One who has never passed 
through the mystic, mingled sorrow and joy of penitence 
and the agony of remorse — has never watched with strain- 
ing eyes for the dawning light of salvation, and at last been 
enabled to say, "Abba, Father!" such a one cannot preach 
the gospel with power and success. His speech may glitter 
with all the flowers of rhetoric and the form of words bo 
complete, but the vast power of the earnest soul sympathiz- 
ing with all the lips utter, will be absent. Without genuine 
experience, our preaching will be apt to fall into that loose 
generalization which can do no good. For it is only when 



30 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

we plant our feet on living realities — those we have tested 
and know to be sure, and deal in particular, specified facts, 
that we are able to pierce through all the folds of ignorance 
and self-love, and awaken an echo of the conscience within. 

As a mere form of knowledge, the experience of God's deal- 
ings with the awakened soul is more valuable than any other 
lore. But its great advantage to the preacher is not the 
increase of knowledge. It produces a tide of emotion that 
can never sleep until the judgment day. It connects the 
Cross and the divine Sufferer with cords of living sympathy 
that always thrill to the very centre of our being. Conver- 
sion invariably deepens and intensifies the emotions of our 
nature ; and if the speaker has passed through a strongly 
marked change he will have the power of imparting his im- 
pressions to others, and of giving to his descriptions the 
inimitable charm of reality. If his religious experience 
accords with the Bible, he can speak from his own heart 
with almost irresistible force. This was the secret of the 
power wielded by Luther, Wesley, Whitfield and others who 
have shaken the world. Thus prepared, John Bunyan wrote 
the most wonderful book of any age — recorded the world's 
experience in religion, and made the cold, dead realms of 
allegory flash with life. He laid the spell of his genius on 
all alike, and the child prattles of the burdened pilgrim with 
the giants in his way, while the old man is cheered by the 
light that streams down from the high hill on which the citv 
is built. The reason of his power is simply that he wrote 
his own spiritual experience in the language of truth. He 
had stood at the bar of Vanity Fair, had fought with the 
fiends, and groped his way through the Valley of the Shadow 
of Death. From the depths of his own heart, torn by in- 
ternal conflict, or healed and made happy by a heavenly 
anointing, he drew the images that glow with all the color 
of life in his marvelous book. 

Love is the mightiest of all forces, and Jesus was revealed 
to draw unto himself the love of the universe. Let the 
minister learn of him, and he will be able to speak as he 



BASIS OF SPEECH. 31 

never spoke before. He will strike the key-note of that song 
whose solemn music has rolled down through the centuries, 
and will wax louder and clearer until time shall be no more. 

The story of the Cross, with all that depends upon it, 
forms the principal part of the Christian orator's theme. 
But he has other duties. His work is broad as human life. 
He stands by the bed of sickness ; he weeps with the mourn- 
ers when the last flutter of life is stilled, and strives to lift 
their eyes to the victor over death ; he warns the impenitent 
of coming woe. It is his to deal with the highest and 
holiest emotions of the heart. And how can he touch these 
delicate chords gently, but firmly — not shrinking from the 
infliction of necessary pain, yet never causing a tear to flow 
"in the mere wantonness of grief" — unless he has passed 
through sorrow's deep waters ? He must have unfeigned 
sympathy for all, and be able to express it plainly and ten- 
derly. 

This power, both of feeling and expression, may be greatly 
increased by exercise. If the preacher will enter the abodes 
of rich and poor alike, and take a friendly interest in their 
hopes and fears, their joys and sorrows, he will find his 
heart drawn out toward them, and when he addresses them 
in public, it will be with far more intense anxiety for their 
good than if they were strangers. It will be comparatively 
easy for him to throw his heart into all he says. 

There are two methods of cultivating genuine emotion 
that we would cordially recommend to all desirous of sway- 
ing the hearts of the people. The first is prayer. We need 
not enlarge on its general benefits, but will notice its effect 
on sacred oratory. The man who often addresses God in 
prayer is in the very best school of eloquence. It brings us 
close to Him, and in the awful light of His purity, we more 
clearly see anything that is bad in our hearts and strive to 
cast it out. As we pray for others, and spread their needs 
before him, we cannot fail to be inspired with a stronger 
desire for their welfare. Then, too, religion becomes some- 
thing more than a mere form of words, and our hearts burn 



32 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

with a stronger flame. We speak now of prayer as it should 
be — a warm, pure, fervent outpouring of the heart to God. 
This is more difficult in the public congregation, for then 
many disturbing elements are brought to bear on the person 
praying. The listening people are apt to be in the preach- 
er's thoughts, and prevent him from enjoying simple and 
direct communion with heaven. It is the prayer " when 
none but God is nigh," that will stir his heart to its pro- 
foundest depths and put his mind in the right frame for 
delivering his sermons. Let any one pray earnestly for help 
from above all the time his sermons are in course of prepara- 
tion, and he will be surprised to find how much of the cold- 
ness and deadness supposed to belong to this species of 
composition will be swept away, and how beautifully over 
all will be spread the vivid charm of real experience. Yet 
we must not restrict our prayers to this time, for God may 
not meet us in loving friendship if we only approach him 
when we have a favor to ask. To reap the full benefit of 
prayer, it should be a habit woven into our life, and contin- 
ued on every occasion. This will rebuke sinful ambition 
and moderate that sensitiveness which has reference to the 
opinions of our fellow-beings. Thus armed, the preacher 
will come as the messenger of God, rather than the caterer 
to men's fancies. And from the mere operation of natural 
causes, he will speak with a boldness and earnestness that 
will draw the hearts of men as the magnet does the steel. 

But prayer is far more than the means of cultivating emo- 
tion. There is a direct influence that comes from God to 
man. The power of the Holy Spirit is no fable. A heav- 
enly anointing is sent down — an unction that gives sweet- 
ness and power even to the most commonplace words. It 
is not bestowed unasked, for God desires that we should feel 
the need of His high gifts before they are granted. But 
when humbly implored, there is often breathed an influence 
from above, mighty to sustain the faithful minister in his 
task. What an encouraging but awful thought ! God him- 
self stands by us in the time of our weakness and gives us 



BASIS OF SPEECH. 

His strength. If the minister would always go to the pulpit 
with this assurance, he would uot fear the mass of upturned 
faces, hut calmly view them with a heart stayed on the Mas- 
ter whose work he has to do. 

The Spirit's presence will not in the least absolve us from 
the need of complete preparation. In nothing is it more 
true that God helps those who help themselves. All that 
we conteud for is such an influence as will cause the words 
uttered to penetrate the souls of those for whom they were 
spoken, remove the fear of man from the preacher's heart, 
and make him bold in speaking the truth. It may be that 
clearer knowledge will be given, and the most fitting selec- 
tion of words suggested, but this can only be hoped for after 
all preparation is made. God does not duplicate his work, 
and that which he gives man faculties to discover, he will 
not afterward bring to him by an express revelation. 

The second method of imparting unction and feeling to 
the coldness of thought, is by meditating on the great truths 
and promises of Christianity. This subject is well treated 
in Baxter's " Saint's Rest," though not with reference to the 
wants of the orator. The power of long-continued and 
earnest meditation varies in different persons, but all can 
acquire it to some degree. It may be defined as a method 
of transporting ones-self from a sense of the present reality 
to an ideal situation — reaching and experiencing the feelings 
that would naturally arise in that situation. Thus we may 
experience some of the pleasures of heaven and the society 
of the blest. We may walk the plains of Galilee with the 
Lord and behold his wondrous love there manifested, almost 
as if we mingled with the throng who hung on his gra- 
cious words ; we may turn to the time of our own conver- 
sion, and recall the passage from despair to conscious life ; 
or look forward to the day of our death, and think of its 
mingled sorrow and triumph. It is a kind of waking dream 
by which the mind is filled with one idea to the exclusion of 
all others. And when we select some high object of con- 
templation and return often to it, we acquire a susceptibility 






34 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

of strong and fervent emotion on that subject which it re- 
quires only a word to arouse. An illustration of this is often 
found in the case of an inventor or discoverer who has dwelt 
on one subject until his whole mind is filled with it, and he 
cannot hear it mentioned without the deepest feeling. How- 
ever cold and listless he may be on other subjects, touch but 
the sacred one of his fancy, and his sparkling eye and ani- 
mated voice tell how deeply you have roused the whole man. 
What an advantage it must be to the extempore speaker, 
with whom everything depends on feeling, to have all the 
cardinal facts he proclaims surrounded by fountains of holy 
emotion, continually supplied from the spring of meditation, 
and ready to flow copiously at the slightest touch ! Such 
trains of thought may be carried on in moments too often 
given to idleness, and thus, not only will a mighty power 
be added to our pulpit ministrations, but our whole life en- 
nobled and enriched. It has been conjectured that Milton's 
mind, while composing " Paradise Lost," existed in the state 
of a sublime waking dream, in which the forms of heaven 
and hell, chaos and creation, all mingled in one glorious 
vision. Something of this nature, though not necessarily 
continuous, must take place in the mental history of every 
true and powerful Christian minister. 



CHAPTER IV. 

ACQUIREMENTS. — KNOWLEDGE, GENERAL — OF BIBLE, OP 
THEOLOGY, OP MEN. 

Thought is the workman of the mind, and requires mate- 
rials upon which to labor. We are such creatures of expe- 
rience that we cannot go far beyond a foundation of fact, or 
weave long trains of pure imagination. In the wildest fic- 
tion the mind can only combine and rearrange what was 
previously known. This necessity rests with added weight 
upon the preacher. He cannot invent his materials in the 
sense the poet can, but must confine himself to the state- 
ment of unadulterated truth. Fortunately, he has no nar- 
row field to explore, for all knowledge is related to his 
themes. He has to speak of God, by whom everything 
exists, and whose glory shines through all the works of his 
hand. The truths he utters apply to the whole circle of life 
and its duties, yet are so familiar and so often neglected, 
that he needs all his power to make them touch the popular 
heart. There is no science that may not at times be made 
available for illustrating or enforcing the word of God. 

The w T ant of extended knowledge will be more severely 
felt by an extempore preacher, than by one who reads or 
recites. The latter has time for selection, and may take the 
parts of a subject with which he is familiar and pass over 
all others. But the former will find this very dangerous. 
Extemporizing should be free and unfettered. The speaker 
must be able to see his own way, and make it clear to his 
hearers. If he is always anxious to avoid dangerous obstrUC- 



36 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

tions and steer around them, he will lose that free flow of 
ideas in which much of the beauty of unstudied speech con- 
sists. Let the man, therefore, who looks to the preacher's 
vocation, lay the foundation broad and deep in a complete 
education, not only in that of the schools, for the knowledge 
they teach is very defective, but let him know all the facts 
that hinge on common life ; the processes of the different 
pursuits and trades ; the subjects that most occupy the 
human mind ; the arts and sciences in their wide depart- 
ments. We have no hesitation in affirming that preaching 
ought to be more scientific than it often is ; that is, when 
preachers deal with the phenomena of nature, they should 
speak of them in their true form, as revealed by science, and 
not indulge in loose generalities or popular misstatements. 
If he master these and all other branches of knowledge, he 
will have at hand a fund of illustration that will never grow 
old, and instead of being under the necessity of turning 
over books of sermons, and hunting out figures of speech 
that have done duty for generations, he will be supplied 
from nature's great volume with those that are ever fresh 
and new. They will be redolent of the morning dew, the 
sparkle of sunlight, the life of humanity, rather than the 
must of books. 

This knowledge constitutes only the rough material of 
thought. It is the dust out of which the body is to be 
formed, and into which the breath of life is to be breathed. 
The power of thinking comes from no accumulated intellec- 
tual stores, but springs from the living energy of the soul 
within. It is above all dead brute force, and fills a world 
of its own. But we would lay the foundation of success in 
oratory by giving the mind food, and providing for it a 
general acquaintance with the universe. This may be super- 
ficial, for it is not given to man to be profound in every- 
thing, but it will suffice to keep the preacher within tbe 
bounds of truth, when, for a time, he leaves his own prov- 
ince. 

But within that province, and on all topics he undertakes 






ACQUIREMENTS. 37 

to discuss, his knowledge should not be superficial. He 
must here hold out no false light to lure mankind, but must 
speak because he knows the truth, and feels that others 
ought to know it. He will then speak — and in his own 
department he has the right to speak — " not as the Scribes 
and Pharisees, but as one having authority." 

To this end the preacher must study the Bible most thor- 
ouo-hly. It is the book from which he obtains his subjects, 
and the most powerful arguments by which they are en- 
forced. He must meditate on it by day and night with ear- 
nest, loving zeal. There is not much profit in merely read- 
ing it through once or twice a year. Read it prayerfully. 
Study the sense. Strive to make it a living book. Realize 
the scenes it describes, the events it records, and the deep 
mysteries it unfolds. There is no study that will increase 
oratorical power more rapidly than the investigation of the 
Holy Scriptures. They are the best models of eloquence, 
the exhaustless armory from which the preacher draws his 
weapons. To be " mighty in the Scriptures " is one of the 
highest recommendations he can have ; and, on the other 
hand, ignorance of the book it will be his life labor to ex- 
pound, is unpardonable, and will expose him to merited con- 
tempt. 

Many books will be needed in forming a critical, living 
comprehension of the Bible. The student should become 
familiar with the present aspect of Palestine and the man- 
ners and customs of former ages. Judicious commentaries 
will help him to penetrate through the covering which 
thoughtlessness and familiarity have woven over the sacred 
page, down to its vital meaning. Ancient history and Bible 
dictionaries will make plain many obscure passages. But 
above all, the Holy Spirit throws a flood of light over the 
whole book, and makes its dark places shine with the radiance 
of truth. Get this first, in a living baptism, and all else will 
be easy. 

A knowledge of Theology is essential. It comes not with 
the same authority as the Word, for it is only man's inter- 



38 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

pretation of what God has revealed, and no one has a right 
to bind others by the rule of his own weak judgment. Yet 
we cannot despise assistance even here. He would be very 
foolish who would insist on ignoring the light of science 
and the accumulated lore of ages, that he might dis- 
cover all truth for himself. Life is so short and man's intel- 
lect so slow, that an individual standing alone would never 
get beyond the state of a savage. We can weigh the evi- 
dence of truth in an hour that has taken years or ages to 
discover. There is no way but to accept the aid of others 
even in the matters that relate to God and our own souls, 
and use it to build up a complete system of knowledge, 
being careful not to surrender our independence of thought, 
nor do violence to our conscience. 

The knowledge of what men have thought and done in 
the field of revelation is indispensable. Without some de- 
gree of it no man is prepared for the sacred office. It need 
not all be attained before beginning to preach, but should 
be a constant aim. The preacher should always be a dili- 
gent student. He will never reach the end. Even when 
his head is whitening for the grave he will find the book of 
God an unexhausted mine, and the interest of newly-dis- 
covered truth will impart such charm and vigor to his dis- 
coveries that they will never grow old. Theology is a vast 
science, embracing all others — an infinite field where man 
may exert all his powers, and never cease for want of new 
realms to explore. 

The preacher labors in the field of humanity, and aims 
to better the present and future condition of mankiud. He 
needs to understand his ground, as well as the instruments 
of his labor. It is through him that divine truth reaches 
the hearts of the multitude. Unless he can cause the people 
to think new thoughts, and be ruled by new motives, wis- 
dom and learning and brilliancy are all in vain. A know- 
ledge of the heart, and of the best methods of reaching it, 
are of first importance. No matter if the preacher speaks 
a truth ; unless that particular truth has an adaptation to 



ACQUIREMENTS. 39 

the present wants of those whom he addresses, it will be, in 
a great measure, unfruitful. The love of God, the story of 
the Cross, with many other things revealed in the Bible, 
are suited to all ages and all men. But the consolations 
intended for a time of sorrow would fall strangely on the 
ear of a bridal party. Exhortations to repentance would 
be lost upon a congregation of sincere Christians. Different 
shades of experience need to be met by appropriate instruc- 
tion ; and the minister who does not watch all changing 
circumstances, and carefully adapt his words to them, will 
fail of the highest usefulness. It may be objected that, in 
large assemblies, the presentation of any truth will benefit 
some person, and that all cannot be reached at once. This 
is partly true ; but the attentive minister will find currents 
of thought moving in his congregation from day to day, and 
will be surprised to see how often the people are thinking 
about the same objects. At one time, the minds of many 
will be tinged with unbelief; at another, spiritualism will 
have its votaries ; and again, genuine, earnest searching for 
the truth will be apparent. He, who so thoroughly knows 
the heart that he can detect the signs of these changes, has 
the advantage possessed by a general who is acquainted 
with all the plans of his antagonist. A close observer once 
said that a certain minister would never be a revivalist, be- 
cause he did not seem to understand the movements of the 
Spirit. There was truth in his judgment, although the de- 
ficiency was rather in understanding human nature. That 
preacher who can look over his congregation as he speaks, 
and discern something of the state of their hearts, can 
strike directly to the mark, while the strength of another 
might be wasted. 

A general knowledge of the motives by which men are 
governed will also be of service. We must employ proper 
arguments when we seek to influence our hearers, for truth 
may be so presented as to repel rather than attract. We 
should know how to appeal to self-interest, for most follow 
what they believe to be its dictates. We should be able to 



40 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

excite their love and sympathy ; in short, we ought to ascer- 
tain what motive is powerful enough to move them, and em- 
ploy it. This quick and accurate knowledge of the heart 
is especially valuable to the man who preaches without 
notes. Looking into the eyes of the congregation, he will 
see their passing thoughts and emotions often indicated with 
great precision. He will thus know when it is best to dwell 
on any particular argument, and can press it home, or leave 
it, before the audience is wearied. He will, all the time, 
have the advantage of seeing his way distinctly, instead of 
stumbling along like a blind man who is conscious of no 
obstacle until brought into contact with it. To reap this 
profit, he must be able to read the expressions and changes 
that the heart throws over the countenance — visible signs 
of its own state. 

The proper way to obtain a practical knowledge of men 
is to mingle with and study them. A preacher has great 
opportunities for this. He need not fear to lower his dignity 
or impair his influence by a free and easy intercourse with 
all classes. The people have acute perceptions, and will 
give him credit for all that is good in him ; and he has no 
right to demand more. Indeed, if he have not native good- 
ness and intelligence enough to retain the confidence of his 
people in the closest social intercourse, the sooner he re- 
linquishes his office the better for all concerned. It is no 
excuse to say that he cannot spare time from his studies ; 
for no labor will more surely bring a return of added power 
and eloquence than the study of his flock around their own 
hearths. The best books are only transcripts of the human 
heart, and here he can study the original in all its freshness. 

But merely to mingle with the people will not fully culti- 
vate this critical knowledge of character, unless it is made 
a particular study. A good way of doing this is to write 
down our first thoughts and impressions of persons we come 
in contact with, and test our correctness by subsequent ex- 
perience. We thus discover the source of our errors, and 
avoid them in future, and, at the same time, form a habit 






ACQUIREMENTS. 41 

of observation which, if continued for years, will increase the 
acuteness of our perceptions until we are able to read men 
at the first glance. 

But most valuable of all means for attaining this power, 
is a thorough, practical acquaintance with Phrenology. 
Much ridicule has been thrown on this science by traveling 
imposters, who have practiced character-reading, together 
with witchcraft and fortune-telling — just as astronomy and 
astrology were once joined. But such associations are not 
more necessary than that sometimes supposed to exist between 
geology and unbelief. Phrenology is a branch of the induc- 
tive sciences, established and tested by observation and experi- 
ment. Its two cardinal principles are : First, that the brain is 
the organ of mind ; second, that different mental functions are 
performed by different parts of the brain. The latter is no 
more unreasonable than to suppose that the different bodily 
actions, walking, lifting, eating, smelling, etc., are performed 
by different parts of the body. The first proposition is ad- 
mitted by all; and if the second is allowed to be reason- 
able, it then becomes easy to determine whether the corres- 
pondence of faculty and organ in any case is sufficiently 
proved. The poets, Whittier and Bryant, Horace Greeley and 
the eminent educator, Horace Mann, all professed to derive 
great advantage from the study. Henry Ward Beecher, 
who stands among the first of living orators, attributes all 
his power "in making sermons fit n to the early and constant 
study of Phrenology. It is an instructive fact, that although 
the different organs were discovered singly and at long- 
intervals, yet when the contributions of many laborers 
have been brought together, the result is a most beautiful 
and perfect mental philosophy — contrasting with the war- 
ring systems of metaphysics as the clear sunlight does with 
clouds and night. AVe give it as a deliberate opinion that it 
is better for the preacher to remain ignorant of any one of 
the natural sciences or learned languages, than to neglect 
that study which unfolds the laws of mind and teaches us 
to understand our fellow men. 



CHAPTER TV. 

CULTIVATION — IMAGINATION LANGUAGE — GESTURE — 

CONFIDENCE. 

THE.ability to convey our thoughts to others may be very 
greatly increased by culture. The vastest accumulations of 
learning will not be useful to the world unless there is an 
available channel by which they may be transmitted. We 
will consider a few of the elements that make a man ready 
in communicating his ideas. 

Imagination is often thought to be unnecessary to the 
sacred orator ; but if he resign to the poet and novelist 
that faculty that deals with beauty in all its forms, the 
lovers of beauty will be apt to desert the churches and 
seek gratification where it can be found. Imagination, in 
its legitimate sphere, is as necessary as the power of reason- 
ing, or the sentiment of devotion. It deals with truth as 
well as fiction, and gives to its possessor the creative, life- 
breathing spirit of poetry. Listen to the description of any 
piece of natural scenery by a person of imagination and an- 
other destitute of it. They may describe with equal truth- 
fulness, and even allude to the same objects ; but one will 
give a dry catalogue of facts, on which the mind cannot fix 
without painful effort, while the other gives a picture that 
fills us with delight. The same difference is apparent in 
the commonest things. In relating a story or enforcing an 
argument, the man who has this rare and wonderful power 
will make his words glow with life, and arrest our attention. 

It has been said of Henry Ward Beecher, who possesses so 
(42) 



CULTIVATION. 43 

strong an imagination, that the people would listen with won- 
der if he were only describing the way a potato grew. This 
is literally true. He would see in it a thousand beauties no 
one else had thought of, and paint the picture with a force 
and accuracy that would command attention. His own con- 
ceptions are exceedingly clear, and while his knowledge is 
great, his imagination enables him to concentrate everything 
into a clear and vivid description. 

Even the Bible, which is the preacher's great example, is 
pre-eminently a book of imagination. Nowhere is there 
loftier or more beautiful imagery employed, or truth 
wrought into more exquisite forms. A few short and 
simple words paint pictures that the world looks upon with 
astonishment from age to age. The first chapters of Genesis 
contain as much poetry as Paradise Lost ; in fact, it is the 
poetry of these chapters interpreted by a mighty mind that 
illuminates the most sublime imaginative poem in the lan- 
guage of man. Job and Isaiah are without rivals in the 
mighty imagination that " bodies forth the forms of things 
unknown." Even the New Testament, which we usually 
consider as a plain narrative, sparkles with true poetry. 
Where will we find a more graceful thought than that of 
our Saviour's : " Consider the lilies of the field, how they 
grow ; they toil not, neither do they spin ; yet I say unto 
you, that Solomon in ail his glory was not arrayed like one 
of these." The Book of Revelation is full of glorious and 
awful figures addressed to the imagination. 

With such sanctions, the preacher need not fear to em- 
ploy all of this faculty that God has given him. Many of 
his subjects are in the remote past, and can only be brought 
near enough to the people to awaken their interest by one who 
can view them as present. There is no possibility of nov- 
elty in our themes. Times are altered since Paul was ac- 
cused as a setter-forth of strange doctrines. Men have 
listened to the same stories all their lives. Yet if the 
preacher can make the sublime scenes of the Bible live in 
his own mind, he can describe them with the vivacity of an 



44 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

eye-witness. All have noticed the interest excited in the 
midst of a dry sermon by a simple story. The reason is, 
that the preacher was, at first, dealing with abstractions — 
mere words, and nothing more — but when he came to the 
story his heart and imagination took hold on it. The same 
interest may be excited in any part of a sermon if the speaker 
can but throw r his own soul into it, and see what he describes. 

The account of the storming of Lookout Mountain, as 
given by Bishop Simpson, was a fine illustration of this. 
The incident is perfectly familiar, and in describing it he 
used simple words, without the false brilliancy that some- 
times passes for eloquence. There was no particular charm 
in his manner, but his imagination grasped the magnificent 
achievement, and it stood out in all its fullness before the 
eyes of the audience. They saw the old flag disappear in 
the cloud, and the long lines of blue wind up the mountain 
until they were hidden in the same obscurity ; heard the 
thunder that man's artillery made boom out of the bosom of 
the cloud ; then saw the flag emerge from the mist and 
heard the cheer of victory ringing down from the sky. 
The effect upon the audience was overwhelming, and irrepres- 
sible tears streamed from the eyes of all. 

Such glory may be thrown around the teaching of the 
Bible, and every word be true; and the audience will enjoy 
it more than if they were actually carried back to the olden 
time and witnessed its wondrous scenes with their own eyes ; 
for they will have — what so many feel the want of when gaz- 
ing on memorable scenes — some one to interpret their feel- 
ings and give them living sympathy. 

While illustrations and comparisons flow principally from 
the reasoning faculties, they derive their beauty from imag- 
ination. Without its influence they may explain and 
simplify, but have no power to interest the hearer or elevate 
the tenor of the discourse. Beecher excels in this as in so 
many other things, and while his similes may take hold of 
the most common things, they are always highly imaginative 
and appropriate. 



CULTIVATION. 45 

How may imagination be cultivated ? It is said that 
" poets are born, not made ;" but the foundation of every 
other faculty is in nature, while all are useless unless im- 
proved and applied. It, too, will increase in power by 
use. Imagination is the faculty that forms complete images 
from the detached materials furnished by the senses. It 
takes from all sources, and mixes and mingles until a perfect 
picture is formed. Now, the proper way of cultivating it is 
by forming just such pictures. Let the preacher throw on 
the canvas of the mind every part of his sermon that is 
capable of sensible representation. It is not enough to have 
all the facts, but he must cast them into the very shape he 
wishes them to take. A great part of every sermon may 
thus be made pictorial, and be far more easily remembered, 
and more effectively delivered. Even in doctrinal sermons, 
use may be made of this principle, by forming clear mental 
images of the illustrations, which are mostly from material 
objects. When Henry Bascom was asked how he succeeded 
in preaching so well, he said that it was by painting every- 
thing vividly in his mind, and then speaking of it as he saw 
it before him. He was a man of unbounded imagination, 
and perhaps allowed it too much influence in his discourses ; 
but his example is most instructive to that large number 
who have not enough to prevent their sermons from being 
dim and dry. 

But the preacher must use this faculty with great care, for 
it is an edged tool. He deals in sacred things, and while he 
may approach the burning bush where the Lord is, he must 
go with naked feet and softest tread. Above all, truth and 
propriety may never be violated. That imaginative preacher 
who pictured to his hearers the bustle of a railway station, 
the rush of the train, the crowding of friends around to wel- 
come the passengers, and conspicuous among them, the gray- 
haired father of the prodigal son, hurrying with tottering 
steps to the edge of the platform, and there grasping the 
returning penitent by the hand, may have produced a vivid 
picture, but his sermon scarcely tended to edification ! 



46 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

This faculty may also be cultivated by reading and pon- 
dering the works of those who have it in a high degree of 
perfection. The time devoted to the study of the great 
poets is not lost. They give richness and tone to the 
speaker's mind, introduce him into scenes of ideal beauty, 
and furnish him with many a striking thought and glowing 
image to be woven into his future discourses. 

Many of the sciences give as full scope to imagination in 
its best workings as the fields of poesy. Astronomy and 
geology stand pre-eminent in this particular. Everything 
about them is great. They deal with immense periods of 
time, immeasurable magnitudes and sublimest histories. 
Hugh Miller's " Vision of Creation" is as replete with imag- 
ination as a play of Shakespeare, and his other works sparkle 
with the same radiant spirit. Each science requires the for- 
mation of mental images, and thus approaches the domain 
of poetry. The dryness of mathematical and scientific 
study is a pure myth. A philosopher once said that poetry 
and the higher branches of science depended on the same 
powers of mind. He was right. The poet is a creator who 
forms new worlds of his own, and " gives to airy nothing 
a local habitation and a name." He pictures the idea that 
arises in his brain in all the vividness of outward form. 
The man of science is required to do the same thing, with 
the advantage, perhaps, of a few scattered hints. The 
geologist may have a few broken bones, a withered 
leaf, and some fragments of rock, from which to bring 
before him the true " forest primeval," through which 
roamed gigantic animals, and dragons more unsightly than 
ever figured in Grecian mythology. The astronomer has 
the half dozen phenomena he can observe with his telescope 
from which to conceive the physical appearance of distant 
worlds. In every science the same need for imagination in 
its high, truthful function exists, and the same opportunity 
is afforded for its cultivation. 

An eminent elocutionist once advised his class to employ 
all pauses in mentally painting the idea conveyed in the 






CULTIVATION. 47 

coming sentence. By this means, he said, the expression of 
the voice would be made deeper and truer. If this is so 
important in reciting the words of others, how much more 
should we observe it when improvising sentences as well as 
modulations. 

Our conceptions may remain vague and intangible while 
within the mind, but they can only reach others by tak- 
ing the definite form of language. It by no means follows 
that a man who has important ideas and deep emotions, will 
be able to communicate them ; but if he have a moderate 
endowment of language it may be so cultivated as to answer 
all his requirements. We have no doubt that diligent and 
long-continued practice in the methods indicated below will 
enable the vast majority of men to express their thoughts 
with clearness and fluency. 

There are certain laws in every language, made binding 
by custom, which cannot be transgressed without exposing 
the transgressor to ridicule. These constitute grammar, 
and must be thoroughly learned. If a man has been under 
the influence of good models in speech from childhood, cor- 
rectness will be a matter almost of instinct ; but the reverse 
of this is usually the case. 

At the present day, there is little difficulty in learning to 
write in accordance with the rules of composition; and 
when the power has been attained, we have a standard by 
which to judge our spoken words. But it is not enough for 
the extempore speaker to be able, by long effort, to reduce 
his sentences to correctness. That should be the first and 
spontaneous form in which they present themselves. He 
has no time to think of right or wrong constructions, and 
the only safe way is to make the right so habitual that the 
wrong will not once be thought of. In other words, we 
must not only be able to express ourselves correctly by 
tongue and pen, but the very current of thought which is 
flowing ceaselessly through our brain, and which is usually 
clothed in unspoken words, must be in accordance with the 
laws of language. When we have attained the power of 



48 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

precise and accurate thinking, we will have no difficulty in 
avoiding the ridiculous blunders sometimes supposed to be 
inseparable from extemporaneous speech. 

Correct pronunciation is also of great importance. Usage 
has the same authority here as in the collocation of words, and 
has assigned to each one its proper sound, which no speaker 
can mistake without being exposed to misconception and 
damaging criticism. A deficient knowledge of pronuncia- 
tion is apt to produce another and extremely hurtful effect. 
The mental effort necessary to determine between two dif- 
ferent sounds that may be suggested, is liable to divert the 
mind from the subject it is engaged upon, and thus occasion 
embarrassment and hesitation. That accuracy in the use 
of words, which is the charm of spoken no less than written 
composition, may also be impaired ; for if two or more terms 
for one object flash into the speaker's mind, only one of 
which he is confident of his ability to pronounce, he will be 
strongly tempted to use that one, even if it be the least 
suitable. He ought to know how to pronounce all common 
words, and be so familiar with the right sound and accent, 
that no other will ever enter his mind. Then he will be able 
to select the terms that convey his meaning most clearly 
and strongly. 

One blunder in pronunciation should be particularly 
shunned by every person of good taste. This is the omis- 
sion of the sound of "r" in places where it rightly belongs. 
It is strange that this shameful perversion of language 
should be popular in certain circles. It is so easily observed 
and corrected that the poor excuse of ignorance is scarcely 
admissible, and in general it can be attributed only to silly 
affectation. This sound is as musical as most others, and 
the attempt to improve the melody of our speech by its 
omission is on a par with the efforts of our great-grand- 
mothers to improve their beauty by affixing patches to their 
cheeks and noses. 

Fluency and accuracy in the use of words are two qual- 
ities that have often been confounded, but are really distinct. 



CULTIVATION*. 40 

They are of equal importance to the speaker, while tho 
writer has most need of the latter. All words have separate 
and well-defined meanings. They are not the product of a 
day, but have been building up through long ages. By 
strange turns, and with many a curious history, have they 
glided into the significations they now bear ; but each one 
has become imbedded in the minds of the people as the 
representative of a certain idea. Xo two words are pre- 
cisely alike. They are delicate paints that, to the untutored 
eye, may seem of one color, but each of which has its own 
place in the picture created by the hand of genius, that 
can be supplied by no other. Many ways have been sug- 
gested to learn these fine shades of meaning. It is often 
supposed that the study of the so-called learned languages — 
Latin and Greek — was the best and almost only method. 
This will certainly give a large amount of information con- 
cerning the origin and formation of words ; but it can- 
not fix their signification at the present day, for radical 
changes of meaning often take place. A linguist can use 
his knowledge to great advantage ; but the man who knows 
no language but his own need not consider himself as de- 
barred from the very highest place as a master of words. 
He can obtain the same knowledge in a more condensed and 
accessible form by the study of a good etymological dic- 
tionary. In general reading, let him mark every word he 
does not perfectly understand, and referring to the diction- 
ary, find what it came from, the meaning of its roots, and 
its varied significations at the present day. This will make 
the word so familiar, that, when he meets it again, it will 
seem like an old acquaintance, and he will notice if the 
author uses it correctly. He may not be able thus to study 
every word in the language, but will be led to think of the 
meaning of each one he sees ; and from this silent practice 
will learn the beauty and power of the English tongue as 
perfectly as if he were master of the languages of Greece 
and Rome. If this habit is long-continued, it will teach him 
to use words truly in his very thoughts, and then he cannot 
mistake even in the hurry of speech. 
3 



50 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

Translating from any language, ancient or modern, will 
have just the same tendency to teach accurate expression 
as careful original composition. In either case, improve- 
ment comes from the search for words that will exactly 
convey certain ideas, and it matters not what the source of 
these latter may be. The use of a good manual of syno- 
nyms — a thesaurus, or storehouse of words — may be of 
service, by showing all terms that relate to any object in 
one view, and allowing us to choose the most suitable. 

But none of these methods will very greatly increase our 
fluency. There is a difference between merely knowing a 
term and that easy use loug practice alone can give. Elihu 
Burritt, with his fifty languages, has often been surpassed 
in fluency, force and variety of expression by an unlettered 
rustic, because the few words the latter knew were always 
ready. This readiness will always increase by use. The 
blacksmith's arm, hardening by the exertion it puts forth y 
is a trite illustration of the effect of exercise ; and the man 
who is always applying to ideas and things the verbal signs 
by which they are known, will increase the facility with 
which he can call them to mind. If he does not employ 
them properly, his manner will not improve, and with all 
his fluency he will speak incorrectly. But if he speak in- 
accordance with established usage, his ability will daily 
increase. 

Conversation is an excellent means for this kind of culti- 
vation. We do not mean a running fire of question and 
answer, glancing so rapidly back and forth as to give no 
time for premeditating or explaining anything, but real, 
rational talk — an exchange of ideas, so clearly expressed as 
to make them intelligible. The man who deals much in 
this kind of conversation can scarcely fail to become a 
master of the art of communicating his thoughts in appro- 
priate language. Talk, express your ideas when you can 
with propriety, or when you have an idea to express. Do 
it in the best way possible. If hard at first, it will become 
easier, and thus you will learn eloquence in the best and 
most pleasing school. For the common conversational 



i 



CULTIVATION. 51 

style — that in which man deals with his fellowraan — is the 
germ of true oratory. It may be amplified and system- 
atized ; but talking bears to eloquence the same relation 
the soil does to the tree that springs from its bosom. 

But the best thoughts of men are seldom found floating 
on the sea of common talk. If we wish to drink the 
deepest inspiration, our minds must come often in loving 
contact with the words of the great and mighty of every 
age. There we will find " thought knit close to thought ;" 
and, what is more to the present purpose, words, in their 
best acceptance, so applied as to breathe and live. We can 
read these passages until their spirit sinks into our hearts, 
and their melody rings in our ears like a song of bliss. If 
we commit them to memory, it will be a profitable employ- 
ment. The words of which they are composed, with the 
meanings they bear in their several places, will thus be 
fixed in our minds, and ready to drop on our tongues when 
they are needed. This conning of passages is not recom- 
mended for the purpose of quotation, though they may 
often be thus used to good advantage; but to print the 
individual words of which they are composed more deeply 
on the memory. 

This may be effected also by committing selections from 
our own compositions. What is thus used should be pol- 
ished, and yet preserve, as far as possible, the natural form 
of expression. When this is done to a moderate extent, 
it has a tendency to elevate the character of our extempor- 
aneous efforts by erecting a standard that is our own, and 
therefore suited to our tastes and capacities, at the very 
highest point we can reach. But if this is made habitual, 
it will interfere with the power of spontaneous production, 
and thus contribute to destroy the faculty it was designed 
to cultivate. Ministers who write and commii all their ser- 
mons, are accustomed to read from a mental copy of their 
manuscript ; and the force of habit binds them more and more 
closely to it until they cannot speak otherwise. When such 
persons are unexpectedly called upon to make a speech, they 



52 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

do it, not in the simple, easy language that becomes such an 
occasion, but by throwing together bits of previously-com- 
mitted addresses. They have made what might be an 
agent of improvement, the means of so stereotyping their 
minds that they can only move in one channel unless time 
is given them to dig out another. 

There is no means of cultivating language that surpasses 
extempore speech itself. The only difficulty is to find occa- 
sion to speak often enough. The pioneer Methodist itiner- 
ants, who had to preach every day in the week, enjoyed this 
mode of cultivation to its full extent ; and whatever may be 
thought of their other merits, their fluency of speech is be- 
yond question. But long intervals of preparation bring 
counterbalancing advantages at the present time. Let 
these be improved in the way indicated hereafter, and the 
preacher will come to the sacred desk with a power in- 
creased by each effort. 

When a thought is clearly understood, it will fall into 
words as naturally as a summer cloud, riven by lightning, 
dissolves into rain. So easy is it to express an idea, or 
series of ideas, that have been completely mastered, that a 
successful minister once said : " It is a preacher's own fault 
if he ever fails in a sermon. Let him prepare as he ought, 
and there is no danger." The assertion was too sweeping, 
for there are sometimes external causes that will prevent 
full success. Yet there is no doubt that the continuance of 
this thorough preparation, in connection with frequent 
speaking, w T ill give very great ease of expression. " The 
blind, but eloquent" Milburn, says, that he gave four years 
of his life — the time spent as chaplain at Washington — to 
acquire the power of speaking correctly and easily without 
the previous use of the pen, and considered the time exceed- 
ingly well spent.. His manner is that most difficult to ac- 
quire — the diffuse, sparkling, rhetorical style so much prized 
by those who prefer flower to fruit. An earnest, nervous, 
and yet elegant style can be acquired by most persons in 
much less time. 



CULTIVATION. 03 

There is another thought that those who complain of defi- 
cient language would do well to ponder. No one can use 
words well on any subject of which he is ignorant. The 
most fluent man, who knows nothing of astronomy, would 
find himself at great loss for words if he attempted to ex- 
plain the phenomena of the heavenly bodies. Even if he 
were shown an orrery, and thus led to comprehend their 
motions, he would still be ignorant of the proper terms by 
which such knowledge is conveyed. If he attempted to 
explain what he understood so imperfectly, he would be 
apt to hesitate, and finally use words and names incor- 
rectly. As our ideas become clear and defined, there is 
an intense hungering for the terms by which they are ex- 
pressed ; and this hunger will lead to its own supply. Let 
us increase our fluency by extending the bounds of our 
knowledge ; but ask of language nothing more than belongs 
to its true function — to furnish means of expression for the 
ideas we already possess. 

The voice, assisted by gesture, forms the immediate link 
between the speaker and his audience. Its qualities are of 
great importance, although, in some quarters, over-estimated. 
A good voice, well managed, gives powerful and vivid ex- 
pression to thought, but cannot answer as a substitute for 
it. Neither is it indispensable. We have known many and 
great instances of success against much vocal disadvantage ; 
but this only proves that its absence may be compensated 
by other excellencies. We can never be indifferent to the 
charm of a well-modulated voice, bending to every emotion, 
and responsive to the finest shades of feeling. It makes 
ordinary talk so smooth and pleasant as to be generally ac- 
ceptable, but can never raise it to greatness. The instances 
that are given to prove this, do not seem capable of bear- 
ing such an interpretation. Whitfield is sometimes spoken 
of as an instance of what can be accomplished by masterly 
elocution ; but he was a man of fervent, if not profound 
thought. His emotion was overpowering, and his voice, 
with all its melody, was only an instrument for its expres- 



54 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

sion. Let a bad or indifferent man have Whitfield's voice 
and manner in completeness, and he would be but a dis- 
gusting declaimer. It is soul that must speak through the 
voice to other souls, and only thus can the mighty effects of 
eloquence be produced. 

We do not think there is much virtue in the merely me- 
chanical training of the voice. To teach the pupil just 
what note on the scale he must strike to express a particu- 
lar emotion, how much of an inflection must be used to in- 
dicate sudden joy or sorrow, and how many notes down the 
scale mark a complete suspension of sense, is absurd. Speech 
can never be set to music. 

But from this let it not be inferred that the cultivation 
of the voice is useless. It is the instrument for the expres- 
tion of thought, and the more perfect it can be made the 
better it is fitted for its high office. It would be well for 
the preacher to spend some time every day for years in 
vocal training, for there is nothing more susceptible of im- 
provement than the voice. The passion excited during 
animated speech will demand almost every note and key 
within its compass, and unless it has been previously trained 
on these, it may fail. To prepare in this way by exploring 
the range of the voice, and testing all its capabilities, has in 
it nothing mechanical or slavish. It is only like putting a 
musical instrument in tune before beginning to play. 

Nothing contributes so much to give ability to manage 
the voice as the separation of words into the simple ele- 
ments of sound, and continued practice in the enunciation 
of these. They can be best learned from the short-hand 
system of tachygraphy or phonography, or from the pho- 
netic print. In these we find sound resolved into its ele- 
ments, which are but few in number, and on which we can 
practice until every difficulty in enunciation is overcome. 
If there is a fault in our articulation, we will find just where 
it is, and can bring all our practice directly to its remedy. 
When we are able to give clearly each one of the separate 
sounds of the language — not many over forty in number — 



CULTIVATION. 55 

we can easily follow them into all their combinations, and 
are thus master of the first great excellency in speaking — 
good articulation. Nor is this all. We can then practice 
on the same elements, at different degrees of elevation on 
the musical scale, until we can strike every one in full round 
distinctness at each point, from the shrillest note used in 
speech to the deepest bass. Then the whole field of oratory 
is open before us. 

But there is still another advantage : if our strength of 
voice be not so great as we would wish, we can take the 
same sounds, and by practicing upon them with a gradually- 
increasing effort, attain all the force our organs are capable 
of, and even increase tbeir power to a degree that would 
be incredible, were it not so often proved by actual experi- 
ment. When engaged in these practices, we will notice a 
distinction between the vowel sounds — that while some of 
them may be prolonged indefinitely, others are made at a 
single impulse. Following out these ideas, we will increase 
the rapidity of the second until they can be struck with all 
the suddenness of the report of a pistol, and one after an- 
other so rapidly that the ear can scarcely catch the distinc- 
tion between them. This will enable us to avoid drawling, 
and help us to speak with rapidity when we desire it, with- 
out falling into indistinctness. We next learn to prolong 
the other vowels, and thus to make them carry the sounds 
of words to the greatest distance. The full, deliberate 
enunciation of a word is audible much further than the 
most violent shout. The passenger calling to the ferry- 
man across the river does not say over in one single violent 
impulse, or, if he does, he is not heard, but o-o-ver ; and 
even if his tone is gentle, the hills ring again, and the ferry- 
man is aroused. Let this principle be brought into use in 
public speaking, and soon no hall will be too large for the 
compass of the voice. 

The different extensions of sounds, as well as their pitch 
on the musical scale, and variations of force in enunciation, 
constitute the perspective of the art of oratory, and give it 



56 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

an agreeable variety, like the mingling of light and shade in 
a well-executed picture. A dull, dead uniformity, in which 
each word is uttered on the same key, with the same 
degree of force, and each sound enunciated with the same 
rapidity, would be utterly unbearable ; while a perpetual 
variety, reflecting in each rise and fall, each storm and calm 
of sound, the living thought within, is the perfection toward 
which we must strive. 

Little can be done in training the voice beyond these ele- 
mentary exercises. The expression in the moment of speech 
may safely be left to the impulse of nature. Supply the 
capability by previous discipline, then leave passion to clothe 
itself in the most natural forms. We believe there is such 
a connection between the emotions of the mind and the dif- 
ferent tones of voice, that emphasis, inflection and intona- 
tion need not be taught. They will well up from the heart 
itself. Reading may require more teaching, for its very 
nature is artificial ; and it behoves those who read their 
sermons to study hard to supply the want of emotion and 
naturalness by the resources of elocution. But the only 
effect of rules upon the speaker, so far as he heeds them at 
all, is to make him a cold and lifeless machine. The child 
that is burnt needs no instruction to find the right tone to 
express its pain, so that every one who hears it knows that 
it is suffering. It strikes the key-note of joy and every 
other emotion with equal certainty. Let nature but have 
her way, untrammeled by art, and every feeling that arises 
will mold the voice to its will, and every heart will 
recognize and respond.to the sound. We may in this way 
miss the so-called "brilliancy" of theatric clap-trap, but 
our voices will have that "touch of nature that makes 
tue whoie world kin." 

Something may be done by observing the world closely 
and thus becoming more deeply permeated by that at- 
mosphere of sympathy and passion that wraps all men 
into one family, and forms a medium of communication 
deeper and more wide-spread than any language of earth. 



CULTIVATION. 57 

It is also profitable to listen to the great orators who have 
mastered the mysteries of speech, not for the purpose of 
imitating them, but that we may appreciate better what 
true excellence is. Yet it is hurtful to confine our attention 
too long to one model, for excellence is many-sided, and if 
wo view only one of its phases, we are apt to fall into slavish 
imitation — the greatest of all vices. We avoid this by 
looking upon many examples, and making use of them only 
to elevate our own ideal. Then, without a conscious effort 
to reproduce anything we have heard, we will be urged to 
greater exertions, and the whole level of our attainments 
raised. 

There are abundant faults to mar the freedom of nature ; 
and the speaker who would be truly natural must watch 
vigilantly for them, and, when found, exterminate them 
without mercy. The sing-song tone, the scream, the lisp, 
the gutteral and tremulous tones, must be weeded out as 
they come to the surface ; and if the preacher's own egotism 
is too great to see them, or his taste not pure enough, some 
friend ought to point them out for him. At the bar, or in 
political life, the keen shaft of ridicule destroys such things 
in those w T ho are not incorrigible ; but in the pulpit they 
are too often suffered to run riot because the sacred nature 
of its themes prohibits ridicule, and causes every one to en- 
dure in silence. 

But there is one fault that over-tops all others, and con- 
stitutes a crying sin and an abomination before the Lord. 
Would that every hearer who suffers by it had the courage 
to go to his minister and tell him of the torture he inflicts. 
He could not long endure such an overwhelming fire brought 
to bear on him. It is what is sometimes designated as the 
" solemn or holy tone." It prevails to an alarming extent. 
Men who, out of the pulpit, are varied and lively in their 
conversation, no sooner enter it than it seems as if some 
evil spirit had taken possession of them and enthroned itself 
in their voice, which at once sinks into a measured, or rather 
measureless drawl, with each word sloping down a precipice 



58 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

of falling inflections. It conceals ideas as perfectly as ever 
Talleyrand did ; for surely no idea, even of living light, could 
penetrate through such a veil. Men who thus neutralize 
their talents and contribute to render religion distasteful, 
will surely have to answer for it at the great day of account. 
Let our style in the pulpit be simple, earnest and manly. 
Let each emotion clothe itself in its own language and tones, 
and then we will be above all rules, and all censure too, for 
we will be under the infallible guidance of nature and the 
Spirit of God. 

Should we use a conversational tone in speaking ? This 
question has often been discussed, and although there is a 
great difference of opinion, yet it seems to admit of satis- 
factory answer. The language of conversation is the lan- 
guage of nature, and therefore it should be the basis of 
speech. The same intonations that are used in it should be 
employed in every branch of oratory. But the manner of 
conversation is not always the same. The man who talks 
with a friend across a river would not use the same tones as 
if he held that friend by the hand. And if a man is speak- 
ing to a number at once, the very need of being heard will 
cause him to speak somewhat louder than in addressing a 
single person. With this exception, it might be safely laid 
down as a rule that a speech should be commenced in the 
same manner as we would speak to an individual. But should 
it be continued in that way ? The oratund tone is calculated 
to make a deeper impression than a higher key, or a less 
degree of force. But there need be no solicitude about its 
employment. Begin as a man who is talking to his friends 
upon an interesting subject would do, and then, as the 
interest deepens, throw away all restraint of voice. Let it 
follow passion, and it will naturally fall into the way that 
will best express that passion. It will deepen into the 
thunder-roar when that is needed, and will become soft and 
pathetic at the right time. 

But beware of thinking that you must be loud, in order 
(;o be jmpressiye. Nothing is more disgusting than that 



CULTIVATION, 59 

interminable roar, beginning with a shout and continuing all 
through the sermon. It is worse than monotony itself. The 
very loudness of voice that, applied at the right place, would 
be overpowering, loses all power, and becomes as wearisome 
as the ceaseless lashing of ocean waves to the storm-tost 
mariner. Strive to have something to say, keep the fires 
of passion burning in your own soul, and the voice, which 
has previously been diligently cultivated, will not fail in 
what should be its only office — the bringing of your thoughts 
into contact with the souls of others. 

Books on oratory properly devote much space to the con- 
sideration of gesture, or the eye needs to be addressed 
and pleased as well as the ear. But we doubt whether the 
marking out of gestures to be imitated is calculated to do 
much good. The principal use of training seems to be, 
first, to overcome the backwardness that might freeze both 
speaker and congregation ; and second, to discard awkward 
and repulsive movements. The first can be accomplished by 
a firm resolution, and is worthy of it. We have all seen most 
eloquent men who did not move at all, or who moved very 
slightly in the course of their address, but never without 
feeling that the want of gesticulation detracted just so much 
from their power. It is unnatural to speak standing still, 
and none but a lazy, sick, or bashful man will do it. Yet 
many who do not hesitate to make their voices reverberate 
to the roof, will fear to move even a finger. Let this tim- 
idity be thrown off. Even an ungraceful gesture is better 
than none at all. 

Bat after the first fear has been overcome, and the speaker 
has learned to use his hands, he next needs to guard against 
bad habits. If anything is truly natural, it will be beauti- 
ful ; but we are so much corrupted by early example that it 
is hard to find what nature is. There is hardly a public 
speaker who does not, at some time, fall into habits that are 
unsightly or ridiculous. The difference in this respect is, 
that some retain all the faults they once get, hanging and 
accumulating around them ; while others, from the warning 



60 EXTEMPORE SPEAR T NG. 

of friends or their own observation, discover their errors, 
and cast them off. 

A good method of testing our own manner, from which we 
should not be deterred by prejudice, is by speaking before a 
mirror. There is reason for the common ridicule thrown 
upon this practice, if we recite our sermons for the purpose of 
marking the proper points of gesture, and of noting where to 
start, and frown, and wave the arm, so as to make the whole 
mere acting. But what we advise is to speak before the 
glass in as earnest and impassioned a manner as we can 
command, not for practice on the subjects we are to discuss, 
but that we may " see ourselves as others see us." In 
ordinary speaking we can hear our own voice, and thus be- 
come sensible of any audible errors that we may fall into ; 
but we need the glass to show us how we look, and to make 
us see any improper movement that we may have uncon- 
sciously contracted. We do not advise the recital of a ser- 
mon before the glass. There is something cold and irrev- 
erent in the very idea. But the same objection does not 
apply to ordinary declamation. 

By these two processes — pressing out into action under 
the impulse of deep feeling, as strongly and freely as pos- 
sible, and by lopping off everything that is not graceful 
and effective, we will soon attain a good style of gesture. 
All mechanical imitation, all observance of artificial rules, 
and especially all attempts to make the gesture descriptive, 
such as pointing toward the object alluded to, placing the 
hand on the heart to express emotion, etc., will do more 
harm than good. The best gesticulation is entirely uncon- 
scious. 

Frequently the speed or slowness of the gesture reveals 
more emotion than its direction or form. The stroke, when 
it falls upon a particular word, aids to make it emphatic, 
even when there is no observable connection between the 
kind of movement made and the sentiment uttered. Let 
the mind, intent on its subject, take full possession of the 
whole body, as a medium of expression, and every action 



CULTIVATION. 61 

will correspond with tone and word, and the soul of the 
hearer be reached alike through eye and ear. 

We have already spoken of boldness as an indispensable 
requisite for an extempore speaker. But more is needed 
than the courage that leads us to encounter the perils of 
speech. Some speakers master their fears sufficiently to 
begin, yet continue to experience a nervous dread which 
prevents the free use of their faculties. This clinging tim- 
idity may hang around an orator, and impede his flights of 
eloquence as effectually as an iron fetter would an eagle on 
the wing. The speaker must confide in his own powers, 
and be willing to trust to their guidance. 

It is not necessary that he should have this confidence 
previous to speaking, for it is then very difficult to exercise 
it, and if possessed, it may assume the appearance of ego- 
tism and boastfulness. Many a man begins to speak while 
trembling in every limb, but soon becomes inspired with his 
theme and forgets all anxiety. But if his fear be greater 
than this, and keep him in perpetual terror, it will destroy 
liberty and eloquence. A man under such an influence 
loses his self-possession, becomes confused, all interest evapo- 
rates from his most carefully-prepared thoughts, and he 
finally sits down, convinced that his effort was a failure, 
while, perhaps, he had in his brain the necessary power and 
material to sway the assembly at will. Such a one must 
learn to fear less, or seek a higher support under his trials. 

There is no remedy more effectual than to do all our 
work under the immediate pressure of duty. If we speak 
for self-glory, the frowns or approval of the audience become 
a matter of vast importance to us, and if we fail, we are 
deeply mortified and bewail our foolishness in exposing our- 
selves to such risks. On the contrary, if we speak from a 
sense of duty, if wt hear the cry, " woe is me if I preach 
not the Gospel," sounding in our ears, it is no longer a mat- 
ter of choice, and we go forward, even trembling, to obey 
the imperative command. Our mind is fixed on our theme, 
and the applause of the multitude becomes of small moment 



62 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

to us except as it is the echo of God's approval. We feel 
that we are his workmen, and believe that he will sustain 
us. Men have thus been forward in the Christian ministry 
who would otherwise never have faced the dangers and 
exposures of public speaking. They were driven to it, and 
therefore threw themselves bravely into it, and often at- 
tained the highest eminence. 

A want of proper confidence is one great reason why so 
many with superior talents for off-hand speaking seek refuge 
in their notes. They try, and fail. Instead of copying the 
school-boy motto " try, try again," and thus reaping the 
fruition of their hopes, they give up — conclude that they 
have no talents for the work, and sink to mediocrity and 
tameness, when they might have been brilliant in the field 
of true oratory. 

The possession of confidence while speaking secures respect 
and deference. The congregation can pardon timidity at 
the beginning, for then their minds are fixed on the speaker, 
and his shrinking seems to be but a graceful exhibition of 
modesty and good sense. But after he has once begun, 
their minds are on the subject, and they associate him with 
it. If he is dignified, respectful and confident, they listen 
attentively, and feel the weight of his words. This is far 
different from bluster and bravado, which always injure the 
cause they advocate, and produce a feeling of disgust toward 
the offender. The first seems to arise from a sense of the 
dignity of the subject ; the second from an opinion of per- 
sonal importance — an opinion no speaker has a right to enter- 
tain when before an audience, for, in the very act of speak- 
ing to them, he constitutes them his judges. He may have 
confidence in his own power to present the subject faithfully, 
and he will speak with only the more force and certainty if 
he is well assured of that, but he must not let it be seen that 
he is thinking of himself, or trying to exhibit his own genius. 

A speaker needs confidence that he may avail himself of 
the suggestions of the moment. Some of the best thoughts 
he will ever have, will be out of the line of his preparation, 



CULTIVATION. 63 

and will occur at a moment when there is no time for him 
to weigh them. He must reject them immediately or begin 
to follow, not knowing whither they lead, and this not in 
thought alone, but in audible words, with the risk that they 
may bring him into some ridiculous absurdity. He cannot 
even stop to glance ahead, for the least hesitation will break 
the spell he may have woven around his hearers, while if he 
rejects the self-offered idea, he may lose a genuine inspira- 
tion. A quick searching glance, that will allow no time for 
his own feelings or those of his hearers to cool, is all that 
he can give, and it is necessary in that time to decide whether 
to reject the thought, or follow it with the same assurance 
as if the end were clearly in view. It requires some bold- 
ness to do this, and yet every speaker knows that his very 
highest efforts — thoughts that have moved his hearers like 
leaves before the wind — have been of this character. 

It also requires some confidence to begin a sentence, even 
when the idea is plain, without knowing how it is to be 
framed or where it will end. This difficulty is experienced 
very often in speech even by those who are most fluent. A 
man may learn to cast sentences very rapidly, yet it will take 
some time for them to pass through his mind, and when he 
has finished one, the next idea may not have fully condensed 
itself into words. To begin, then, with this uncertainty and 
go on without letting the people see any hesitation, demands 
a good deal of confidence in one's power of commanding 
words and forming sentences. Yet a bold and confident 
speaker feels no uneasiness on such occasions. Sometimes 
he will prolong a pause while he is thinking of the word he 
wants, and hazardous as this appears, it is really safe, for 
the mind is so active when in the complete possession of its 
powers that, if necessary, as it seldom is, something extra- 
neous can easily be thrown in, that will fill up the time until 
the right term and the right construction are found. 

This necessary confidence can be cultivated by striving to 
exercise it, and by assuming its appearance where the reality 
is not. Let a person make up his mind that he will become 



64 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

an extempore speaker, and patiently endure all failures and 
mistakes that follow, and lie will thus avoid the wavering 
and shrinking, and questioning in his own mind that other- 
wise distress him and paralyze his powers. If he fail, 
he will be stimulated to a stronger and more protracted 
effort. If he succeed, that will be an argument upon which 
to base future confidence, and thus, whatever is the result, 
he is forwarded on his course. 

And in regard to the difficulty of sentence-casting, he will 
make his way through so many perplexities of that kind, 
that the only danger will be that of becoming careless, and 
constructing too many sentences without unity or polish. 
He will acquire by long experience so much knowledge of 
the working of his own thoughts, as to be able to tell at a 
glance what he ought to reject, and what accept, of the un- 
bidden ideas that present themselves. He will be ready to 
seize every new thought, even if it be outside of his prepa- 
ration, and, if worthy, give it instant expression ; and if not, 
dismiss it at once and continue unchecked along his intended 
route. 

There is only one direction that we can give for the acqui- 
sition of the confidence that is respectful and self-assured, 
and yet not forward nor obtrusive. Be fully persuaded as 
to what is best for you, and make up your mind to take the 
risks as well as the advantages of extempore speaking. 
Then persevere until all obstacles are overcome. 

We have thus glanced at a few of the more important 
acquired qualities necessary for public speaking. These do 
not cover the whole field, for to speak aright requires all the 
faculties of the mind in the highest state of cultivation. 
There is no mental power that may not contribute to the 
orator's success. The whole limits of possible education are 
comprised in two great branches : the one relating to the 
reception, and the other to the communication of knowl- 
edge. The perfect combination of these is the ideal of ex- 
cellence — an ideal so high that it can only be aspired to. 
All knowledge is of value to the orator. He may not have 



CULTIVATION. 65 

occasion to use it directly in his speeches, but it will always 
be at hand to select from, and give his views additional 
breadth and scope. If his materials are few he must take, 
not what is best, but what he has. If a wide extent of knowl- 
edge is open before him, the chances are that he will find 
exactly what is needed for his purpose. 

The improvement of the power to communicate knowledge 
is, if possible, still more important. A great part of the 
value even of a diamond depends upon its setting and polish, 
and the richest and most glowing thoughts may fail to reach 
the heart or charm the intellect, unless they are cast into the 
proper form, and given external beauty. 

Let the man, then, who would speak well not fear to know 
too much. He cannot be great at once. He must build for 
future years. If he wish a sudden and local celebrity that 
will never increase, but molder away, even in his own life- 
time, he could, perhaps, attain it in another way. He might 
learn a few of the externals of elocution, and then, with 
great care, or by the free use of the material of others, 
prepare some finely-worded discourses, and read or recite 
them as often as he can find a new audience. It is true that 
by this means his success will probably not be as great as 
he would wish, but he can be sure that what he achieves will 
be sufficiently evanescent. He will not grow up to the 
measure of greatness, but become daily more dwarfed and 
stereotyped in intellect. But on the other hand, let him 
" intermeddle with all knowledge," and make his means of 
communicating what he thus gathers as perfect as possible, 
and then talk to the people out of the fullness of his treas- 
ures, and if no sudden and empty acclaim should greet him, 
he will be weighty and influential from the first, and each 
year that passes will bring him added power. The aim of 
the sacred orator should be the full and harmonious develop- 
ment of all the faculties that God has given him, and their 
consecration to his great work. 



PART IT 



-*r*V 



A SERMON 



CHAPTER I. 



THE FOUNDATION SUBJECT OBJECT — TEXT. 

We have thus far discussed the subject of preliminary 
training, and have endeavored to show what natural quali- 
ties the preacher must possess, and how these can be improved 
by diligent cultivation. The importance of a wide scope of 
knowledge, and especially of that which bears upon oratory ; 
of understanding and having some command of the powers 
of language ; of having a personal experience of Christ's 
pardoning love, and a heart filled with desire for the salva- 
tion of our fellow men ; of believing that God has called us 
to the work of the ministry ; has already been pointed out. 
When a man finds himself in possession of these, and is 
still a diligent student, growing daily in grace, he is pre- 
pared to preach the Gospel in " demonstration of the spirit 
and of power." He is then ready to consider the methods 
by which all his gifts and acquirements may be made avail- 
able, and wielded with mightiest effect in the service of his 
Master. 

Some of the directions given in this and succeeding chap- 
ters are of universal application, while others are to be re- 
garded only as suggestions, to be modified and changed 
according to individual taste, or particular circumstances. 

A plan is necessary to every sermon. A rude mass of 
brick, lumber, mortar and iron, thrown together as the ma- 
terials chance to be furnished, does not constitute a house, 
and is worthless until each is built into its appropriate place, 
in obedience to some intelligent design. A sermon must be 



70 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

constructed in a similar manner. It may contain much that 
is good, or useful, or striking, and be replete with sparkling 
imagery, and full of ideas that will command the attention 
of the audience, and yet completely fail. The only safe 
method is to have a well-defined plan marked out from be- 
ginning to end, and to work according to it. 

It is always better to have this plan previously constructed. 
Sometimes when we speak on a subject we have often thought 
over, its whole outline will flash upon us in a moment, and 
we will speak as well as if we had employed months in pre- 
paration. But such cases are rare exceptions. The man 
who attempts, on the spur of the moment, to arrange his 
facts, draw his inferences, and enforce his opinions, will find 
the task very difficult, even if his memory promptly fur- 
nishes all the necessary materials. 

Every discourse, of whatever character, should have a sub- 
ject and an object. A sermon requires a text also, and these 
three constitute the foundation upon which it is built. We 
will consider them separately. 

A good plan cannot be constructed without an object in 
view. Why is it that at a particular time a congregation 
assembles, and sits silent while a man addresses them ? 
What is his motive in standing up before them and asking 
their attention ? Many of the people may have been drawn 
together by the lightest influences, but the minister, at least, 
should be actuated by a noble purpose. If he has a clear 
aim before him, it will tend powerfully to give unity and 
consistency to his discourse, and prevent him from falling 
into endless digressions. It will bind all detached parts 
together, and infuse a common life through the whole mass. 
We cannot be too careful in the selection of such a ruling 
object, for it will affect the whole superstructure. 

Our purposes should not be too general. It is not enough 
that we should wish to do good. Probably no minister ever 
preaches without that general desire. But the important 
question is, " What special good do I hope to accomplish by 
this sermon ?" When he has decided this, he will then be 



THE FOUNDATION. 71 

prepared to adapt his means to the end proposed, and the 
whole discourse will acquire a definiteness and precision that 
would never otherwise have belonged to it. The more we 
sub-divide our objects, the more will this precision be in- 
creased, although there is a limit beyond which it would be 
at the expense of other qualities. If we desire the salvation 
of souls, it is well, and most powerful sermons have been 
preached with that object in view. But if we narrow our 
immediate aim, and keep in view only one of the steps by 
which the soul advances to God, it will give our discourse a 
keener edge, and we can plead with those who have not yet 
taken that step with more prospect of immediate success, 
than if we at once placed the whole journey before them. 
For example, many sermons may be preached with " repent- 
ance " as the central object, and this duty enforced by various 
motives and innumerable arguments. We may show that 
it is a duty, that man is lost without it, that Jesus calls him 
to it, that God assists, that salvation follows it, etc. 

Our objects usually have reference to the action of those 
who hear us, and the more fully that action is understood, 
and the more earnest our desire to produce it, the greater 
our persuasive power will be. If we do not exactly know 
what we wish to accomplish, there is very little probability 
that our audience will interpret our thoughts for us. We 
may, it is true, labor to convince the judgment of our hear- 
ers, and make them understand truth more clearly than 
before, but this is usually because of the influence thus ex- 
erted on their actions. 

The objects that should govern our sermons are compara- 
tively few, and ought to be selected with great care. Much 
of our success depends on having the right one of these 
before us at the right time ; for if we aim at that which is 
unattainable, we lose our effort. If we preach sanctification 
to a congregation of unawakened sinners, no power of treat- 
ment can redeem the sermon from the cardinal defect of 
inappropriateness. If we preach against errors which no 
one of our hearers entertains, our logic is lost, even if the 



72 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

very errors we battle against are not suggested. Let us 
carefully note the state of our audience, and select for our 
object that which ought to be accomplished. 

There is a difference between the subject of a discourse 
and its object ; the latter is the motive that impels us to 
speak, while the former is what we speak about. It is not 
uncommon for ministers to have a subject without any very 
distinct object. Their engagements require them to speak, 
and a subject is a necessity. That which can be treated 
most easily is taken, and all the ideas they possess, or can 
collect about it, are given forth, and the matter left. Until 
such persons grow in earnest, and really desire to accomplish 
something, they cannot advance the cause of God. 

The object of a sermon is the soul, while the subject is 
only the body ; or, we may say, the one is the end, and the 
other the means by which it is accomplished. After the 
object is fixed the subject can be chosen to much better 
advantage ; for instance, if it be our object to lead the peni- 
tent to the Cross, we may select any of the themes con- 
nected with the crucifixion and dying love of Christ ; we 
may show the sinner his inability to fulfill the requirements 
of the law, and that he needs an atoning sacrifice to save 
him from its penalty ; we may show that the salvation pur- 
chased is full and free. Many other branches of the same 
great topic will be found suitable for the purpose in view. 

This order of selection may sometimes be reversed to good 
advantage. When a minister is stationed with a certain 
congregation, there are many objects he wishes to accom- 
plish, and often no strong reason for preferring one in the 
order of time to another. *It will then be well for him to 
take that subject which may impress him, and bend his mind 
toward an object he can enforce most powerfully through it. 

On other occasions there is a particular end to be attained, 
which is for the time all-important, and which thus furnishes 
the proper object. Nothing then remains but for the preacher 
to choose a subject through which he can work to the best 



THE FOUNDATION. 73 

This is one great advantage the Methodists have in pro- 
tracted meetings. An object is always in view, and the 
congregation expect it to be pressed home with power. No 
plea of general instruction will then save a sermon from being 
thought worthless, if it does not produce an immediate result. 
And even the much calumniated "mourners' bench" con- 
tributes most powerfully to the same result. There is 
something proposed which the congregation can see, and 
through it judge of the preacher's success or failure. An 
outward act is urged upon the unbelieving portion of the 
audience, by which they signify that they yield to the power 
of the Gospel ; and the very fact of having that before him 
as an immediate, though not an ultimate aim, will stimulate 
the preacher's zeal, and cause him to put forth every possi- 
ble exertion. 

After all, the order in which subject and object are selected 
is not very material. It is enough that the preacher has a 
subject that he understands, and an object that warms his 
heart and enlists all his powers. Then he can preach, not 
as if dealing with abstractions, but as one who has a living 
mission to perform. 

Every subject we treat should be complete in itself, and 
rounded oft' from everything else. Its boundaries should be 
run with such precision as not to include anything but what 
properly belongs to it. It is a common but grievous fault » 
to have the same cast of ideas flowing round every text that ■- 
may be preached from. There are few things in the universe a 
that have not some relation to everything else, and if our - 
topics are not very strictly bounded, we will fall into the 
vice of perpetual repetition. Thus, in a book of sermon 
sketches we have examined, nearly every one begins by 
proving that man is a fallen creature, and needs the helps or 
is liable to the ills mentioned afterward. No other thought 
is introduced until that primal point is settled. This doc- 
trine is of great importance, and does affect all man's rela- 
tions, but we can sometimes take it for granted, without 
endangering the edifice we build upon it, and occasional 
4 



74 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

silence will be far more impressive than that continual itera- 
tion, which may even induce a doubt of what seems to need 
so much proof. 

Ministers sometime acquire such a stereotyped form of 
thought and expression that what they say in one sermon 
will be sure to recur, perhaps in a modified form, in all 
others. This kind of preaching is intolerable. There is an 
end to the patience of man. He tires of the same old ideas, 
and wishes when a text is taken that it may bring with it a 
new sermon. The remedy against this evil is to give each 
sermon its own territory, and then guard rigidly against 
trespass. It is not a sufficient excuse for the minister who 
preaches continually in one place, that what he says has a 
natural connection with the subject in hand, but it must 
have a closer connection with it, than with any other he may 
use. By observing this rule, we make each theme the solar 
centre around which may cluster a great number of second- 
ary ideas, all of which naturally belong to it, and are undis- 
turbed by satellites from other systems. 

Jhe subjects from which a preacher may choose are innu- 
merable. The Bible is an inexhaustible store-house. Its 
histories, precepts, prophecies, promises and threatenings, 
are almost endless. Then all the duties of human life, 
and especially those- born of the Christian character ; the 
best methods of making our way to the end of our journey ; 
the hopes after which we follow ; the dangers that beset our 
path ; the mighty destinies of time and eternity, are a few 
of the themes that suggest themselves, and afford room 
v enough for the loftiest talent, during all the time that man 
\is allowed to preach on earth. If we would search carefully 
for the best subjects, and, when found, isolate them from all 
others, we would never need to weary the people by the 
repetition of thoughts and ideas. 

While, as a rule, we ought to shun controversial points, 
we should not be afraid to lay hold of the most important 
subjects that are revealed to man. These will always com- 
mand attention ; heaven and hell, judgment, redemption. 



THE FOUNDATION. 75 

faith, the fall, and all those great doctrines upon which the 
Christian religion rests, need to be frequently impressed on 
the people. It is also profitable to preach serial sermons on 
great subjects. The rise of the Jewish nation and economy 
would afford a fine field for instruction. The life and work 
of Jesus Christ would be still better. This latter series 
might consist of discourses on His birth, baptism, tempta- 
tion, first sermon, His teaching in general, some miracle as 
a type of all others, transfiguration, last coming to Jerusa- 
lem, Gethsemane, betrayal and arrest, trial, crucifixion, resur- 
rection, ascension and second advent. Many other subdi- 
visions might be made. Such linked sermons, covering a 
wide scope, instruct the people better than isolated ones 
could, and afford equal opportunities for enforcing all Chris- 
tian lessons. Yet it would not be well to employ them 
exclusively, or even generally, as such a practice would tend 
to wearisome sameness. 

The subject must be well defined. It may be of a general 
nature, but our conception of it should be so clear that 
we always know just what we are speaking about. This 
is more necessary in an extempore speech than in a written 
one, although the want of it will be felt severely even in the 
latter. A strong, vividly defined subject will give unity and 
life to a whole discourse, and often leave a permanent im- 
pression on the mind. To aid in securing this, it will be 
well for the preacher, when he has chosen a subject, to re- 
duce it to its simplest form, and then by writing it as a 
phrase or sentence, stamp it on the mind, and let it ring in 
every word that is spoken ; that is, let each word aid in 
carrying out the great idea, or in leading to the desired object, 
and be valued only so far as it does this. Those intermin- 
able discourses, that seem to commence anywhere and end 
nowhere, may be called sermons by courtesy, but they are 
not such in reality. The word " sermon " signifies " a 
thrust," which well expresses the concentrativeness and 
aggressiveness that should distinguish it, and which no- 
thing but a well-defined theme can give. It ought not to 



76 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

glitter with detached beauties, like the starry heavens, but 
shine with the single, all-pervading radiance of the sun. 

This unity of theme and treatment is not easily preserved. 
It is hard to see in the mind's eye what we know would 
please and delight those who listen, and turn away and leave 
it, but it is often necessary to exercise this more than Spar- 
tan self-denial, if we would not reduce our sermons to mere 
random harangues. Not that illustration should be dis- 
carded, for the whole realm of nature may be pressed into 
this service, and a good illustration in the right place is 
often better than an argument. But nothing, whatever its 
nature, should be drawn in, unless it so perfectly coalesces 
with the parent idea, that a common vitality flows through 
them. If this is the case, the unity will be unbroken, 
though even then it often happens that the idea would pro- 
duce a better effect in connection with another theme, and 
should be reserved for it. 

Usage has established the practice of employing a passage 
of Scripture as the basis of a sermon. This is of great ad- 
vantage to the minister, for it gives the discourse something 
of divine sanction, and makes it more than a popular address. 
Opinion is divided as to whether it is best to select the text, 
and arrange the discourse to correspond with it, or reversing 
this order, to compose the sermon first, and thus secure the 
harmony that arises from having no disturbing idea, and at 
the last moment choose a text of Scripture that will fit it as 
nearly as possible. 

No doubt the comparative advantages of these methods 
will be to a great degree determined by the occasions on 
which they are used. When a subject is of great import- 
ance, and we wish to be precise in explaining it, we may 
adopt the latter method, but the former is more generally 
useful. There are so many valuable ideas and important 
suggestions in the words of Scripture, that we can ill afford 
to deprive ourselves of this help. For the Bible, with all 
its ideas, is common property. No minister need fear the 
charge of plagiarism, when he borrows, either in word or 



THE FOUNDATION. 77 

thought from its inspired pages. He is God's ambassador, 
with the Bible for his letter of instruction, and the more 
freely he avails himself of it, if it be done skillfully, the 
better for the authority of his mission. We may often 
select a subject that appears dark and confused, but when 
we have found a passage of Scripture embracing the same 
idea, there may be something in it that will solve every 
doubt, and indicate the very thoughts we wish to enforce. 
For this reason we believe that under ordinary circum- 
stances, the practice of first constructing the sermon and 
only at the last moment before delivery, tacking on a text, 
is not the best. 

Another reason in favor of previously selecting the text 
is worth consideration. The people, who are not supposed, 
to know anything of the subject, expect, when we read a 
passage of Scripture, as the foundation of our remarks, that 
it will be something more than a mere point of departure. 
They anticipate that it will be kept always in view, and fur- 
nish the key-note to the whole sermon. This is but reason- 
able, and if disappointed, they will not so well appreciate 
what is really good in the discourse. We would not sacri- 
fice unity to a mere rambling commentary on the words of 
the text. Let the subject be first in the mind and bend 
everything to itself. But let the text be next in importance, 
and the whole subject be unfolded with it always in view. 
It may be feared that the work of sermonizing will be ren- 
dered more difficult by observing this double guidance, but 
if a proper text be chosen — one that, in its literal meaning, 
will embrace the subject — the labor will be much lightened. 

It is a common fault to take a passage of Scripture con- 
sisting of a few words only, and put our own meaning upon 
it, without reference to the intention of the inspired writer 
who penned it. This borders very closely on irreverence. 
If we cannot use God's words in the sense he uses them, we 
had better speak without a text at all, and then our sin will 
only be a negative one. The taking of a few words divorced 
from their connection, and appending them to a discourse or 



78 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

essay, that has no relation to their true meaning, is not less 
a profanation than it would be to prefix the motto, " Perfect 
love casteth out fear," to a fashionable novel. But when, 
on the other hand, we take a text that contains our subject, 
and expresses it clearly, we are prepared to compose a ser- 
mon to the best advantage. The subject present in our own 
mind runs through every part of the discourse, making it a 
living unity, instead of a collection of loose and disordered 
fragments ; while the text, being always kept in view by the 
hearers as well as by the speaker, leads all minds in the same 
direction, and gives divine sanction to every word that is 
spoken. It is not without reason that the people, whose 
tastes are nearly always right, though they may not be able 
to give a philosophical explanation of them, complain of 
their preacher when he does not " stick to his text." It is 
right that he should so adhere. 

A man of genius may neglect this precaution, and still 
succeed, as he would do, by mere intellectual force, were he 
to adopt any other course. But ordinary men cannot, with 
safety, follow the example of Sydney Smith. His vestry 
complained that he did not talk about the text he took, and, 
that he might the more easily reform, they advised him to 
divide his sermons as other preachers did. He promised to 
comply with their request, and the next Sabbath began, 
" We will divide our discourse this morning into three parts ; 
in the first place we will go vp to our text, in the second we 
will go through it, and in the third we will go from it." It 
\was generally allowed that he succeeded best on the last 
\division, but preachers who have not his genius had better 
omit it. 

These rules in relation to the absolute sway of object, 
subject and text, may appear harsh and rigid, but cannot be 
neglected with impunity. A true discourse of any kind is 
the orderly development of some one thought, with so much 
clearness, that it may ever afterward live as a point of light 
in the memory ; other ideas may cluster around it, but one 
must reign supreme. If it fails in this particular, nothing 



THE FOUNDATION. 79 

else will redeem it. Brilliancy of thought and illustration 
will be wasted, as a sculptor's art would be on a block of 
clay. 

A man of profound genius once arose to preach before a 
great assemblage, and every breath was hushed to listen. 
He spoke with power, and some of his passages were full of 
thrilling eloquence. He poured forth beautiful images and 
deep solemn thoughts, with the utmost profusion. Yet 
when he took his seat a sense of utter disappointment filled 
the hearts of all present. The sermon was confused. No 
subject could be traced that bound it together, and made a 
point of union to which the memory might cling. Had he 
not read his text no one could have guessed it. It was a 
most impressive warning of the necessity of laying a founda- 
tion before erecting a magnificent structure. Had he adhered 
to the thoughts expressed in his text, which was one of the 
richest in the Scriptures, his eloquence and power would not 
have been thrown away. 



CHAPTER IL 

THE PLAN THOUGHT - GATHERING — ARRANGING COM- 
MITTING. 

The logical order of sermon preparation is, first, to gather 
the materials of which it is composed ; second, to select 
what is most fitting, and arrange the whole into perfect 
order ; third, to fix this in the mind, thus making it available 
at the moment of use. These processes are not necessarily- 
separated in practice, but may be best considered in the 
order indicated. 

When we choose a subject for a sermon, and allow the 
mind to dwell upon it, it becomes a centre of attraction, and 
naturally draws all kindred ideas toward it. Old memories 
that have become dim in the lapse of time, are slowly hunted 
out and grouped around the parent thought, and each hour 
of study adds to the richness and variety of our stores. 
The relations between different and apparently widely-separ- 
ated things become visible, just as new stars are seen when 
we gaze intently toward them. Everything that the mind 
possesses is subjected to a rigid scrutiny, and all that appears 
to bear any relation to the subject is brought into view. A 
considerable period of time is usually required for the com- 
pletion of all this, and the longer it is continued the better, 
provided the interest felt is not abated. 

Such continuous reaches of thought form a principal ele- 
ment in the superiority of one mind over another. Even 
the mightiest genius cannot, at a single impulse, exhaust the 
ocean of truth that opens around every object of man's con- 
<80) 



THE PLAN. 81 

teniplation. And it is only by viewing ;i subject in every 
aspect, that we can guard against superficial and one-sided 
impressions. But the continued exertion and toil which this 
implies are nearly always distasteful, and the majority of men 
can accomplish it only by a stern resolve. This ability, 
whether acquired or natural, is one of prime necessity, and 
the young minister, at the very first, should learn to thor- 
oughly investigate and finish every subject he undertakes, 
and continue the habit during life. This will generally de- 
termine the question of his success or failure, at least from 
an intellectual point of view. Thought is a mighty archi- 
tect, and if you keep him fully employed, he will build up, 
with slow and measured strokes, a gorgeous and enduring 
edifice on any subject within your mental range. You may 
weary of his labor, and think the wall rises very slowly, and 
will never be completed, but wait. The work will be fin- 
ished at last, and will be no ephemeral structure to be swept 
away by the first storm, but will stand unshaken on the basis 
of eternal truth. 

M. Bautain compares the accumulation of thought around 
a subject, to the almost imperceptible development of organic 
life. Striking as is the illustration, there is one marked 
point of dissimilarity. The growth of thought is voluntary, 
and may be arrested at any stage. ' Even a cessation of con- 
scious effort is fatal. To prevent this, and keep the mind 
employed until all its work is done, requires, with most per- 
sons, a regular and formal system. Profound thinkers, who 
take up a subject, and cannot leave it until it is traced into 
all its relations, and mastered in every part, and who have at 
the same time the power of long remembering the trains of 
thought that pass through their minds, may not need an 
artificial method. But these are exceptions to the general 
rule. 

We will give a method we have found useful for securing 
sermon materials, and allow others to adopt it so far as it 
may prove advantageous to them. 

Ideas are not always kept equally in view. Sometimes 
-4* 



82 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

we may see one with great clearness, and after a little time 
lose it again, while another, at first invisible, comes into 
sight. Each one should be secured when it occurs. After 
the subject has been pondered for a sufficient length of time, 
write all the thoughts that are suggested on it, taking no 
care for the arrangement, but only putting down a word or 
brief sentence that will recall the idea intended. After 
everything that presents itself has thus been rendered per- 
manent, the paper containing these items may be put away, 
and the subject recommitted to the mind. As other ideas 
arise, let them be recorded in the same way, and the process 
extended over days together. Sometimes new images and 
conceptions will continue to float into the mental horizon 
even for weeks. Most persons who have not tried this 
simple process, will be surprised to find how many thoughts 
they have on the commonest topic. If some of this gathered 
matter remains vague and indefinite, it will only be necessary 
to give it more time, more earnest thought, and all obscurity 
will vanish. 

At last, there comes a consciousness that the mind's power 
on that theme is exhausted. If we also feel that we possess 
all the requisite material, this part of our work is ended. 
But more frequently there will be a sense of incompleteness, 
and we are driven to seek what we need elsewhere. 

The next step is the obtaining of new facts. We have thus 
far dealt with what the mind itself possesses, and have only 
sought to make that previously-accumulated knowledge fully 
available. But when this stage is reached, we hunger for 
more extended information. We read the works of those 
who have treated on the themes we are discussing, converse 
with well-informed persons, observe the world closely, and 
at last find the very idea we want. We receive it with 
joy, and from thenceforth it becomes a part of our being. 
We place the treasure on paper with other items, and con- 
tinue to search until we have all we desire. It often bap- 
pens that we do not find exactly the object of our search, 
but strike on some chain that guides us to it through the 



THE PLAN. 83 

subtile principles of association. It is only the more wel- 
come because we have thus traced it out. 

We have on paper, at last, and often after much toil, a 
number of confused, unarranged notes. The whole mass 
relates to the subject, but much is unfitting, and all requires, 
by another process, to be cast into order and harmony. The 
first step in this direction is to omit everything not necessary 
to the purpose of the sermon. This is a matter of great 
importance. It has been said that the principal difference 
between a wise man and a fool is, that the one utters all his 
thoughts, while the other gives only his best to the world. 
Nearly every man has, at times, thoughts that would profit 
mankind, and if these are carefully selected from the puerili- 
ties by w^hich they may be surrounded, the result cannot 
but be valuable. And if this cautious selection be needed 
on general topics, it is still more imperative in the ministry 
of the Word. The preacher must beware of giving any- 
thing repugnant to the spirit of his mission. And the neces- 
sity of a purpose running through his whole discourse, which 
we have before enlarged on, compels him to strike out each 
item at variance with it. It is well to carefully read over 
our scattered notes after the fervor of composition has sub- 
sided, and erase all that are unfitting. Sometimes this will 
leave very few ideas remaining, and we are obliged to search 
for others to complete the sermon. This can be continued 
until we have gathered a sufficient mass of clearly connected 
thoughts to accomplish the object in view. 

Next follows the task of constructing the plan for the 
intended sermon. Unless this is well done, success is im- 
possible. The mightiest results are obtained in oratory by 
the slow r process of words, one following another. Each 
one should bear forward the current of thought in the right 
direction, and be a help to all that follow. And as, in ex- 
tempore speech, these words are given forth on the spur of 
the moment, it becomes necessary to so arrange that the 
proper thought to be dissolved into words, may always be 
presented to the mind at the right time. 



84 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

In some cases this disposition of parts is quite easy. A 
course indicated by the very nature of the subject will 
spring into view, and relieve us of further embarrassment. 
But often this portion of our task will require severe thought. 

Many different kinds of plans have been specified by wri- 
ters on Homiletics. We will be contented with four divis- 
ions, based on the mode of construction. 

The first, we may call the narrative method. It is princi- 
pally used when some scripture history forms the basis of 
the sermon. In it the different parts of the plan are arranged 
according to the order of time, except when some particular 
reason, borrowed from the other methods, intervenes. When 
there are few or none of these portions which give it a com- 
posite character, the development proceeds with all the sim- 
plicity of a story. Many beautiful sermons have been thus 
constructed. 

A second method is the textual. Each part of the sermon 
rests on some of the words or clauses of the text, and these 
suggest the order of its unfolding, although they may be 
changed to make it correspond more nearly to the narra- 
tive, or the logical methods. This kind of plan has an ob- 
vious advantage in assisting the memory by suggesting each 
part at the proper time. 

The logical method is the third we will describe. A topic 
is taken, and without reference to the order of time or the 
words of the text, is unfolded as a proposition in Geometry 
— each thought being preliminary to that which follows, and 
the whole ending in the demonstration of some great truth, 
and the deduction of its legitimate corollaries. This method 
is exceedingly valuable in many cases, if not pressed too far. 
The last method, and the one employed more frequently 
than all the others, is the divisional. It is the military 
arrangement, for in it the whole sermon is organized like an 
army. All the detached items are brought into related 
groups, each governed by a principal thought, and these 
again are held in strict subordination to the supreme idea ; 
or, to change the figure, the eutire mass resembles a tree, 



THE PLAN. 85 

with its single trunk, its branches subdivided into smaller 
ones, and all covered with a beautiful robe of leaves, that 
rounds its form into graceful outlines, even as the flow of 
words harmonizes our prepared thoughts, into the unity of 
a living discourse. 

A subject will many times arrange itself almost sponta- 
neously into several different parts, which thus form the 
proper divisions, and these again may be easily analyzed 
into their sub-divisions. Even when this is not the case, we 
will see, as Ave examine our jottings, that a few of the ideas 
stand out in especial prominence, and with -a little close 
study of relations and affinities, all the others may be made 
to group themselves around these. The individual ideas 
which we put down on the first study of the subject, usually 
form the sub-divisions, and some generalization of them the 
divisions. 

It is well not to make the branches of a subject too numer- 
ous, or they will introduce confusion, and fail to be remem- 
bered. From two to four divisions, wth two or three 
sub-divisions under each, are in a majority of cases better 
than a larger number. The tendency to multiply them 
almost infinitely, which was formerly very prevalent, and 
is still too common, receives a merciless, but well-de- 
served rebuke from Stephens, in his " Preaching Required 
by the Times." He is criticising a popular "Preacher's 
Manual " : 

" These more than six hundred pages are devoted exclu- 
sively to the technicalities of sermonizing. We almost per- 
spire as we trace down the tables of contents. Our eye is 
arrested by the ' divisions ' of a subject — and here we have 
no less than ' nine kinds of divisions :' the ' Exegetical Di- 
vision,' the l Accomodational Division,' the ' Regular Di- 
vision,' the ' Interrogative Division,' the ' Observational 
Division,' the * Propositional Division,' etc, ; and then 
come the ' Rise from Species to Genus,' the ' Descent from 
Genus to Species.' And then again we have exordiums : 
* Narrative Exordiums,' 4 Expository Exordiums,' 'Argument- 



86 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

ative Exordiums,' ' Observational Exordiums,' ' Applicatory 
Exordiums,' ' Topical Exordiums,' and, alas for us ! even 
t Extra-Topical Exordiums.' Ones thoughts turn away from 
a scene like this spontaneously to the Litany, and query if 
there should not be a new prayer there. 

" But this is not all. Here are about thirty stubborn 
pages to tell you how to make a comment on your text, and 
we have the ' Eulogistic Comment ' and the ' Dislogistic 
Comment,' (turn to your dictionary, reader ; we cannot stop 
in the race to define), c Argumentative Comment ' and the 
1 Contemplative Comment,' the l Hyperbolical Comment,' the 
1 Interrogative Comment,' and the list tapers off at last with 
what it ought to have begun and ended with, the ' Expository 
Comment.' 

" And even this is not alL Here is a section on the c Dif- 
ferent kinds of Address,' and behold the astute analysis : 
1 The Appellatory, the Entreating, the Expostulatory, the 
Remedial, the Directive, the Encouraging, the Consoling, 
the Elevating, the Alarming, the Tender, the Indignant, the 
Abrupt.' 

" This is the way that the art * Homiletic ' would teach us 
when and how to be ' Tender,' ' Indignant,' ' Consoling,' and 
even ' Abrupt !' ' Nonsense !' 

" Yes, ' nonsense !' says any man of good sense in looking 
at this folly : a folly which would be less lamentable if it 
could only be kept to the homiletic professor's chair, but 
which has still an almost characteristic effect on pulpit elo- 
quence — not only on the form of the sermon, but as a natu- 
ral consequence on its very animus. This tireless author 
gives all these outlines as practical prescriptions. He even 
presents them in a precise formula. We must yield to the 
temptation to quote it. * There are,' he says, ' certain tech- 
nical signs employed to distinguish the several parti of a 
discourse. The first class consists of the principal divisions, 
marked in Roman letters, thus : I., II., in., IV., etc. Xext, 
the subdivisions of the first class, in figures, 1, 2, 3, etc. "Cnder 
these, subdivisions of the second class, marked with a curve on 



THE PLAN. 87 

the right, as 1), 2), 3), etc. Then, subdivisions of the third class, 
marked with two curves, as (1), (2), (3), etc. ; and under 
these, subdivisions of the fourth class, in crotchets, thus: [1], 
[2], [3]. As- 

" ' I. Principal division. 

1. Subdivision of first class. 
1). " " second class. 

(1). " " third class. 

[1]. « " fourth class. 

" Mathematical this, certainly ; some of Euclid's problems 
are plainer. As a ' demonstration ' is obviously necessary, 
the author proceeds to give the outline of a sermon on ' The 
Diversity of Ministerial Gifts, 1 from the text 4 Now there are 
Diversities of Gifts 1 etc. He has but two ' General Divisions,' 
but makes up for their paucity by a generous allowance of 
* Subdivisions.' His * General Divisions ' are, I. ' 'Exemplify 
the Truth of the Text. II. Derive some Lessons of Instruction, 
etc., — an arrangement simple and suitable enough for any 
popular audience, if he were content with it, but under the 
first head he has two ' subdivisions,' the first of which is re- 
duced to thirteen sub-subdivisions, and one of these thirteen 
again to seven sub-sub-subdivisions ! The second of his sub- 
divisions again divided into eight sub-subdivisions, while the 
1 homily ' (alas for the name !) is completed by a merciless 
slashing of the second ' general division ' into no less than 
eight subdivisions. The honest author, when he takes breath 
at the end, seems to have some compunctious misgivings 
about this infinitesimal mincing of a noble theme, and re- 
minds the amazed student that though the plan should be 
followed ' in the composition of a sermon,' the ' minor divi- 
sions ' can be concealed from view in preaching ; and he 
concludes the medley of nonsense with one sensible and very 
timely admonition : ' If a discourse contain a considerable 
number of divisions and subdivisions, care should be taken 
to fill up the respective parts with suitable matter, or it will 
be, indeed, a mere skeleton — bones strung together — ' very 
many and very dry !' " 



88 EXTEMPORE SPEAKINtt. 

When we have accumulated our materials, stricken out all 
not needed, and determined what shall be the character of 
our plan, the remainder of the work must be left to individual 
taste and judgment. No rules can be given that will meet 
every case. We might direct to put first what is most easily- 
comprehended, what is necessary for understanding other 
portions, and also what is least likely to be disputed. But 
beyond these obvious directions little aid can be given. The 
preacher must form his own ideal, and work up to it. He 
may profitably examine sermon skeletons, to learn what such 
forms should be. And when he hears good discourses he 
may look beneath the burning words, and see what are the 
merits of the frame-work on which they rest. This may 
render him dissatisfied with his own achievements, but such 
dissatisfaction is the best pledge of earnest effort for higher 
results. 

A certain means of improvement is to bestow a great deal 
of time and thought on the formation of plans, and make no 
disposition of any part without a satisfactory reason. If 
this course is faithfully continued, the power to arrange 
properly will be acquired, and firm, coherent, and logical 
sermons be constructed. 

There are certain characteristics that each sermon skeleton 
should possess. It must indicate the nature of the discourse, 
and mark out each of its steps with accuracy. Any want 
of definiteness is a fatal defect. The orator must feel that he 
can rely absolutely on it for guidance to the end of his dis- 
course, or be in perpetual danger of embarrassment and con- 
fusion. Each clause should express a distinct idea, and but 
one. If it contain anything that is included under another 
head, we fall into wearisome repetition, the great danger of 
extempore preachers. But if discordant and disconnected 
thoughts are grouped together, we are liable to forget some 
of them, and in returning, destroy the order of the sermon. 

A brief plan is better than a long one. Often a single word 
will recall an idea as perfectly as many sentences would do, 
and will burden the memory less. We do not expect the draft 



THE PLAN. 89 

of a house to equal the building in size, but only to indicate 
the position and proportion of its apartments. The plan 
cannot supply the thought, but, indicating what exists in 
the mind, it shows how to bring it forth in regular order. 
It is a pathway leading to a definite end, and like all 
roads, its crowning merits are directness and smoothness. 
Without these, it will perplex and hinder rather than aid. 
Every word in the plan should express, or assist in express- 
ing an idea, and be so firmly bound to it that the two can- 
not be separated by any exigency of speech. It is per- 
perplexing in the heat of discourse to have a prepared note 
lose the idea attached to it, and become merely an empty 
word. But if the conception is clear, and the most fitting 
term has been chosen to embody it, this cannot easily hap- 
pen. A familiar idea may be noted very briefly, while one 
that is new requires to be more fully expressed. Most ser- 
mon skeletons may be brought within the compass of a hun- 
dred words, and every part be clear to the mind that con- 
ceived it, though, perhaps not, comprehensible by any 
other. 

It is not always best to present the divisions and sub- 
divisions in preaching. The congregation do not care how 
a sermon has been constructed, provided it comes to them 
warm and pulsating with life. To give the plan of a sermon 
before the sermon itself, is contrary to the analogy of nature. 
She does not require us to look upon a grisly skeleton before 
we can see a living body. It is no less objectionable to 
name the parts and numbers of the sketch during the dis- 
course, for bones that project through the skin are very 
uncomely. The people will not suffer, if we keep all the 
divisions to ourselves, for they are only professional de- 
vices to render our share of the work easier. Much of 
the proverbial " dryness " of sermons arises from displaying 
all the processes we employ. A hotel that would have its 
beef killed and dressed before its guests at dinner, would 
not be likely to retain its patronage. Whenever we hear a 
minister state his plan in full, and take up " firstly " and 



90 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

announce the sub-divisions under it, we prepare our patience 
for a severe test. 

What the people need, are deep, strong appeals to their 
hearts, through which shines the lightning of great truths, 
and the sword of God's spirit smites — not dry, dull divisions 
through which " it is easy to follow the preacher " — a compli- 
ment often given, but always equivocal. A tree is far more 
beautiful when covered with waving foliage, even if some 
of the branches are hidden. Let the stream of eloquence 
sweep on in an unbroken flow, bearing with it all hearts, 
but giving no indication of the manner in which it is guided ; 
or, better still, let it move with the impetus of the cannon 
ball, overthrowing everything in its path, but not proclaim- 
ing in advance the mark toward which it is flying ! 

We should go as far in the plan as we intend to do in the 
sermon, and know just where to stop. Then we arise with 
confidence, for we are sure that we have something to say ; 
we know what it is ; and most important of all, we will 
know when it is finished. Most objections against extem- 
pore preaching apply only to discourses that have no gov- 
erning plan. When this is firm and clear, there is no more 
danger of saying what we do not intend, or of running into 
endless digressions, than if we wrote every word. Indeed 
there is no better way to compose a written sermon, than 
by first arranging a plan. 

But it may be urged that this laborious preparation — this 
careful placing of every thought — will require as much time 
as to write in full. It may at first. The mind needs to be 
trained in the work, and it will be of great advantage even 
as a mental discipline. But it grows easier with practice, 
until the preparation of two sermons a week will not be felt 
as a burden — will only afford grateful topics of thought while 
busied at other labor. The direct toil of a mature preacher 
may not exceed an hour per week. 

The sermon is now clearly indicated. A plan has been 
prepared that fixes each thought to be expressed in its 
proper place. There is no further danger of the looseness 



THE PLAN. 91 

and desultoriness that are not unfrequently supposed to be 
peculiar to extemporaneous speech. It is possible, in the 
moment of utterance, to leave the beaten track, and give 
expression to any new ideas that may be suggested. But 
there is a sure foundation laid — a course marked out that 
has been deeply premeditated, and which gives certainty to 
all we say. 

But it is not enough to have the plan on paper. As it 
came from the mind at first in detached items, it must, in its 
completed state, be restored to it again. Some ministers 
are not willing to take the trouble of committing their skele- 
tons to memory, but lay the paper before them, and speak 
on one point until that is exhausted, and then look up the 
next, which is treated in the same manner. This tends 
powerfully to impair the unity of the discourse, which 
should be unbroken, and to make each note the theme of a 
short, independent dissertation, rather than an integral part of 
the whole. The minister reaches a point where he does not 
know what is to come next, and on the brink of that gulf 
looks down at his notes, and after a search, perhaps finds 
what he wants. Had this latter thought existed in his mind, 
it would have been taken notice of in time, and the close of 
the preceding one bent into harmony w T ith it. The direct 
address of the preacher to the people, which they value so 
much, is interfered with in the same way, for his eye must 
rest, part of the time, on his notes. The divisions also of 
the sermon are apt to be mentioned, for it is hard for the 
tongue to refrain from pronouncing the words that the eye 
is glancing over. 

For all these reasons we believe that notes should seldom, 
if ever, be used in the pulpit. They remedy none of the 
acknowledged defects of extempore speaking, but add to 
thern the coldness and formality of reading. Those who 
cannot trust the mind alone had better go further, and read 
their sermons with what earnestness they can command, and 
thus secure the elegant finish supposed to be attainable only 
in written compositions. 



92 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

But not all who use notes thus abuse them. Many employ 
them merely to prevent possible forgetfulness, and perhaps 
do not look at them once during the sermon. Yet it is still 
better to carry them in the pocket, and thus avoid the appear- 
ance of servile dependence, while they would still guard 
against such a misfortune as befel the Abbe Bautain, who, 
on ascending the pulpit to preach before the French king 
and court, found that he had forgotten the subject, plan and 
text ! 

By committing the plan to memory the mind takes pos- 
session of the whole subject. It is brought into one view, 
and if any part is inconsistent with the main discussion, the 
defect will be seen at once. If the plan is properly con- 
structed, the mind is then in the best possible condition for 
speech. The object is fixed in the heart, and will fire it to 
earnestness and zeal, and the subject is spread out before the 
mind's eye, while the two meet and mingle in such a way as 
to give life and vitality to every part. This is just what is 
needed in true preaching. The speaker's soul, heated by the 
contemplation of his object, penetrates every part of his 
theme, investing it with an interest that compels attention. 
All the power he possesses is brought to bear directly on the 
people. We can scarcely imagine a great reformer — one 
who has shaken the nations — to have adopted any other 
method of address. Think of Xavier or Luther with their 
notes spread out before them, while addressing the multi- 
tudes who hung on their lips ! The Presbyterian elder who 
once prayed in the presence of his note-using pastor : " O 
Lord ! teach thy servants to speak from the heart to the 
heart, and not from a little piece of paper, as the manner of 
some is !" was not far wrong. 

It is well to commit the plan to memory a considerable 
time before entering the pulpit. There is then less liability 
of forgetting some portion of it, and it takes more complete 
possession of the mind. This is less important when we 
preach on subjects with which we are perfectly familiar, for 
then " out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speak- 



THE PLAN. 93 

eth." But we are not always so favored. Even if the salient 
features are well known, some of the minor parts may require 
close consideration. This cannot be so well bestowed until 
after the plan is completely prepared, for before that time 
there is danger that much of our attention may be given to 
some idea which may be ultimately rejected, or changed with 
the plan. But when the plan is finished, each idea has set- 
tled into its place. If obscurity still rests anywhere, it will 
be seen at once, and the strength of the mind brought to 
bear on that particular point. The impressions then made 
are easily retained, because associated with a part of the 
prepared outline. Such deep meditation on each division of 
the sermon can scarcely fail to make it original in the truest 
sense of the term, and weave it together with strong and 
massive thought. 

After the plan is committed to memory, we can meditate 
on its different portions, not only at the desk, but every- 
where. As we walk from place to place, or lie on our beds, 
or at any time find our minds free from other engagements, 
we can ponder the ideas that cluster around our subject 
until they grow perfectly familiar. Even when we are read- 
ing, brilliant thoughts may spring up, or those we possessed 
before take stronger and more definite shape. 

This course Ave would strongly urge on the young speaker. 
If diligently followed, it will be invaluable. Arrange the 
plan from which to speak as clearly as may be, and memorize 
it ; turn it over and over again ; ponder each idea and the 
manner of bringing it out ; study the connection between 
all the parts, until the whole, from beginning to end, appears 
perfectly plain and simple. This method of preparation has 
been so fully tested by experience, that its effectiveness is 
no longer questionable. 

It is important to grasp the whole subject, as nearly as 
possible, in a single idea — in the same way that the future 
tree is compressed in the germ from which it springs. Then 
this one thought will suggest the entire discourse to the 
speaker, and at its conclusion will be left clear and positive 



94 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

on the hearer's mind. It is true that some acute auditors 
may outrun a loose speaker, arrange his scattered fragments, 
supply his omissions, and arrive at the idea which has not 
yet formed itself in his own mind. Such persons often com- 
mend preachers who are incomprehensible to the majority 
of their audience. But it is not safe to trust their applause 
for they are exceedingly apt to be in the minority. 

After the plan is memorized, it is often of advantage to 
sketch the discourse in full ; if this is done in long hand, 
there is danger that its slowness will make it more of a 
word-study than what it is intended to be — a test of ideas. 
Here short hand is valuable ; and its use in this manner will 
at once detect anything that may be wrong in the plan, for 
if all is well arranged there need be no pause in the most 
rapid composition. If we are able at one effort to throw 
the whole into a dress of words, we can be confident that 
with the additional stimulus supplied by the presence of a 
congregation, it will be easy to do the same again. There 
should be no attempt, at the time of speaking, to recall the 
terms used in writing, but our command of language is 
usually improved by having so lately used many of the 
terms w r e will need again. Frequently there are fine pas- 
sages in the sermons thus struck off at white heat which we 
would not willingly forget, yet it is better to make no effort 
to remember them, for we are almost certain to rise even 
higher in the excitement of speech. 

Those who cannot write at a speed approaching that of 
the tongue, and who wish a little more assistance than is fur- 
nished by the plan, can make a brief sketch of it — a compact 
and intelligible model of the whole subject. A discourse 
that requires an hour in delivery may be compressed into 
a wonderfully small compass, without a material thought 
being omitted or obscurely indicated. Such a sketch differs 
from the plan in clearly expressing all the ideas that under- 
lie the discourse, while the latter would be unintelligible to 
any but the writer. The one is only a few marks thrown 
out into the field of thought, by which an intended path- 



THE PLAN. 95 

way is indicated ; the other is an exceedingly brief view of the 
thoughts themselves, without adornment or verbiage. Some 
speakers who might feel insecure in trusting the notes and 
hints of the plan, would feel free to enlarge on a statement 
of their thoughts, so brief as to require only two or three 
minutes for reading. But this is only an expedient, and 
need not be adopted by those who have confidence in their 
trained and cultivated powers. 

The method of committing to memory a skeleton for the 
purpose of securing our accumulations, is widely different 
from the systems of Mnemonics that were once so current. 
Ideas are linked together by natural, not artificial asso- 
ciations. It is the grasping of one thought that points to 
another, or dissolves, as we gaze upon it, into minuter ones, 
and is, in most instances, based upon that rigid analy- 
sis which cannot be dispensed with even by those who 
would think exactly. All who write their sermons would 
do well to adopt it. Strict analysis and broad generaliza- 
tion are the foundation of all science, and if the preacher 
builds upon them the world of spiritual truth "will yield him 
its treasures. 

After a plan has been fully prepared it may easily be pre- 
served for future use, by being copied into a book kept for 
the purpose, or, what is more convenient in practice, folded 
into an envelope, with the subject written on the back. By 
the latter means a large number may be preserved in such 
form as to be readily consulted. These can be improved as 
our knowledge increases, so as to be, at any time, the com- 
plete expression of our ability on the theme treated of. 



CHAPTER ni. 

PRELIMINARIES — FEAR — VIGOR — OPENING EXERCISES. 

It is an anxious moment when, after having completed 
his preparation, the preacher awaits the time for beginning 
his intellectual battle. Men who are physically brave often 
tremble in this emergency. The shame of failure appears 
worse than death itself, and as the soldier feels more of cold 
and shrinking terror while listening for the peal of the first 
gun, than when the conflict deepens into blood around him, 
so the speaker suffers more in this moment of expectancy 
than in any that comes after. He sees the danger in its full 
magnitude without the inspiration that attends it. Yet 
he must remain calm and collected, for unless he is mas- 
ter of himself, he cannot expect to rule the multitude before 
him. He must keep his material well in hand, that it may 
be used at the proper time, although it is not best to be con- 
tinually conning over what he has to say. The latter would 
destroy the freshness of his matter, and bring him to the de- 
cisive test weary and jaded. He only needs to be assured 
that his thoughts are within reach. 

It is very seldom possible to banish all fear, and it is to 
the speaker's advantage that he cannot. His timidity arises 
from several causes, A^hich differ widely in the effects they 
produce. A conscious want of preparation is one of the 
most distressing of these. When this proceeds from willful 
neglect no pity need be felt, although the penalty should be 
severe. If the speaker's object is only to win reputation — 
to pander to his own vanity — he will feel more terrified than 
(96) 



PRELIMINARIES. 97 

if his motive were worthy. Such is often the position of 
the uncalled minister. He can have no help from on high, 
and all his prayers for divine assistance are a mere mockery. 
But if we speak because we dare not refrain, a mighty point 
is gained, for then failure is no reproach. And the less of 
earthly pride or ambition mingles with our motives, the 
more completely can we rely on the help of the Spirit. 

Another cause of fear is less unworthy. The glorious work 
in which we are engaged may suffer from our insufficiency ; 
for, while God will bless the truth when given in its own 
beauty and power, there is still scope enough for all the 
vigor of intellect, and the strongest preacher feels the respon- 
sibility of rightly using his powers resting heavily upon him. 

A general dread, that cannot be analyzed or accounted 
for, is perhaps more keenly felt than any other. Persons 
who have never spoken sometimes make light of it, but no 
one will ever do so who has experienced it. The soldier, 
who has never witnessed a battle, or felt the air throb with the 
explosion of cannon, or heard the awful cries of the wounded, 
is often a great braggart, while " the scarred veteran of a 
hundred fights " never speaks of the carnival of blood with- 
out shuddering, and would be the last, but for the call of 
duty, to brave the danger he knows so well. A few speak- 
ers never feel' such fear, but it is because they do not know 
what true speaking is. They have never felt the full tide of 
inspiration that sometimes lifts the orator far above his 
ordinary conceptions. They only come forward to relieve 
themselves of the interminable stream of twaddle that wells 
spontaneously to their lips, and can well be spared the pangs 
that precede the birth of a profound and living discourse. 

This kind of fear belongs to oratory of any character, but 
especially to that which deals with sacred themes. It resem- 
bles the awe felt on the eve of all great enterprises, and when 
excessive, as it is in some highly gifted and sensitive minds, 
it constitutes an absolute bar to public speech. But in most 
cases it is a source of inspiration rather than of repression. 

There is a strange sensation often experienced in the 
5 



98 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING 

presence of an audience before speaking. It may proceed 
from the united electric influence of the many eyes that are 
turned upon the speaker, especially if he catches their gaze. 
It may enchain him and leave him powerless, unless he rises 
superior to it, and, throwing it backward to its source, makes 
it the medium of his most subtile conquests. Most speakers 
have felt this in a nameless thrill, a real something, pervading 
the atmosphere, tangible, evanescent, indescribable. All 
writers have borne testimony to the effect of a speaker's 
glance in impressing an audience. Why should not their 
eyes have a reciprocal power ? 

By dwelling on the object for which we speak, and en- 
deavoring to realize its full importance, we will in a measure 
lose sight of the danger to be incurred, and our minds be 
more likely to remain in a calm and tranquil state. But no 
resource is equal to the sovereign one of prayer. The Lord 
will remember his servants when they are laboring in his 
cause, and grant a divine influence to prepare them for the 
work. 

No change in the plan should be made just before speaking, 
for it will almost inevitably produce confusion. Yet this 
error is very difficult to avoid. The mind has a natural ten- 
dency to be going over the same ground, revising and test- 
ing every point, and is liable to make changes, the conse- 
quences of which cannot at once be foreseen. After all 
necessary preparation has been made, we should wait the 
result quietly and hopefully. Over-study is possible, and 
when accompanied by great solicitude, is a sure means of 
driving away all interest from the subject. If the eye be 
fixed too long upon one object, with a steadfast gaze, it will 
be unable to see at all. So the mind, if confined to one 
point for a great period, will lose its vivacity, and grow 
weary. Nothing can compensate for the want of elasticity 
and vigor in the act of delivery. It is not enough to enu- 
merate a dry list of particulars, but we must enter into their 
spirit with the deepest interest. This cannot be counter- 
feited. To clearly arrange, and weigh every thought that 



PRELIMINARIES. 99 

belongs to the subject, lay it aside until the time for speech, 
and then enter upon it with only such a momentary glance as 
will assure us that all is right, is doubtless the method to make 
our strength fully available. To await the decisive moment 
wiih calm sell-confidence, is very difficult, especially for begin- 
ners, but the ability to do it may be acquired by judicious prac- 
tice and firm resolution. M. Bautain, whose experience was 
very extensive, says that he has sometimes felt so confident 
of his preparation, as to fall asleep while waiting to be sum- 
moned to the pulpit ! 

But those who misimprove the last moments by too much 
thought, form the smallest class. Many, through mere indo- 
lence, permit the finer lines of the future discourse, that have 
been traced with so much care, to fade out. This not unfre- 
quently happens to those who preach a second or third time 
on the same subject. Because they have succeeded once, 
they imagine that the same success is always at command. 
This is a hurtful, though natural error. It is not enough to 
have the material for a sermon where it may be collected by 
a conscious and prolonged effort, but it must be in the fore- 
ground. There is no time, in the moment of delivery, for 
reviving half obliterated lines of memory. 

We once witnessed an instance of most unexpected failure 
from this cause. The speaker was much engrossed with 
other duties until the appointed hour, and then, having no 
leisure for preparation, he selected a sermon he had preached 
shortly before, and with the general course of which he was 
no doubt familiar. Yet when he endeavored to produce his 
thoughts they were not ready. He became embarrassed, 
and was finally compelled to take his seat in the midst of 
his intended discourse. 

It is well, during the last interval, to care for the strength 
of the body, for its condition will influence all the manifesta- 
tions of mind. It is said that the pearl-diver, before ventur- 
ing into the depths of the sea, always spends a few moments 
in deep breathing, and other bodily preparation. In the 
excitement of speech, the whirl and hurricane of emotion, it 



100 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

is necessary that our physical condition should be such as to 
bear all the tension put upon it. Mental excitement wears 
down the body faster than muscular labor. To meet all its de- 
mands we must reserve our strength for the time it is needed ; 
for any illness will operate as a direct reduction of the orator's 
power, and he must not hope, under its influence, to realize 
full success. 

Holyoake makes the following pertinent observations in 
reference to this point : 

" Perhaps the lowest quality of the art of oratory, but 
one on many occasions of the first importance, is a certain 
robust and radiant physical health ; great volumes of animal 
heat. In the cold thinness of a morning audience, mere 
energy and mellowness is inestimable ; wisdom and learning 
would be harsh and unwelcome compared with a substantial 
man, who is quite a house-warming." 

The picture painted in romances of a speaker with atten- 
uated form, and trembling step, scarcely able to sustain his 
own weight as he ascends the platform, but who, the mo- 
ment he opens his lips, becomes transfigured in the blaze of 
eloquence, is more poetical than natural. Let the instru- 
ment be in perfect tune, and then can the hand of genius 
evoke from it sweet and thrilling music. 

As the time for speaking approaches every fatiguing exer- 
tion should be avoided. 

In the " Rudiments of Public Speaking," Holyoake gives 
a passage from his own experience which well illustrates this : 

" One Saturday I walked from Sheffield to Huddersfield to 
deliver on the Sunday two anniversary lectures. It was my 
first appearance there, and I was ambitious to acquit myself 
well. But in the morning I was utterly unable to do more than 
talk half inaudibly and quite incoherently. In the evening 
I was tolerable, but my voice was weak. My annoyance was 
excessive, I was a paradox to myself. My power seemed 
to come and go by some eccentric law of its own. I did 
not find out till years after that the utter exhaustion of my 
strength had exhausted the powers of speech and thought, 



PRELIMINARIES. 101 

and that entire repose instead of entire fatigue should have 
been the preparation for public speaking." 

Absolute rest is not generally advisable, for then the 
preacher would enter the pulpit with languid mind and 
slowly beating pulse, and would require some time to over- 
come this state. A brisk walk, when the health is good, 
will invigorate and refresh all his faculties, and in part pre- 
vent the feebleness and faintness of a listless introduction, 
by enabling him to grasj) the whole subject at once, and 
launch right into the heart of it. Should any one doubt the 
pow r er of exercise to produce this effect, let him, when per- 
plexed with difficult questions in his study, start out over 
fields and hills, and review the matter in the open air. If 
the minister cannot secure this kind of exercise he may eas- 
ily find a substitute. If alone, he can pace back and forth, 
and swing his arms, until the circulation becomes brisk, and 
pours a stream of arterial blood to the brain that will sup- 
ply all its demands. 

Another simple exercise will often prove of great advan- 
tage. It is well known that many ministers injure them- 
selves by speaking too much from the throat. This results 
from improper breathing — from elevating the upper part of 
the chest instead of pressing the abdomen downward and 
outward, causing the air to pass through the whole length 
of the lungs. To breathe properly is always important, and 
does much to prevent chest and throat diseases. But it is 
worthy of the most careful attention on the part of the 
speaker, for by it alone can he attain full compass and range 
of voice. But in animated extempore speech there is no 
time to think of the voice at all, and the only method possible 
is to make the right way so habitual that it will be adopted 
instinctively. This will be greatly promoted if, just before 
beginning to speak, we will breathe deeply a number of 
times, inflating the lungs completely to their extremities. 

At this last hour, the speaker must not dwell upon the 
dangers he is about to encounter, or picture the desirability 
of escape from them. He has taken every precaution and 



102 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

made every preparation. Nothing remains for him but to 
put his trust in God, and bravely do his duty. 

The order of opening services is different in the different 
churches, but in all they are of great advantage to the min- 
ister by overcoming excessive timidity, and giving an easy 
introduction to the audience. The hymn, or psalm, is to be 
read, which is not a very embarrassing task, and in doing it 
he becomes familiar with the sound of his own voice. Yet 
it requires many rare qualities to read well. Good sense 
and modesty are essential. The theatric method, sometimes 
admired, exaggerating every tone, and performing strange 
acrobatic feats of sound, tends to dispel the solemn awe and 
reverence that should gather around the sanctuary. Let the 
hymn be read quietly, with room for rise as well as fall, and 
all be perfectly natural and unaffected. The sentiment ex- 
pressed by the voice should correspond with the meaning of 
the words. Even in this preliminary exercise, it is possible 
to strike a chord that will vibrate in unison through the 
hearts of preacher and people. 

Prayer is still more important. When it is read, the same 
remarks apply as to the reading of the hymns. Each word 
should be made the echo of an inward feeling. But in most 
American churches prayer is extempore. The minister ad- 
dresses heaven in his own words, on behalf of himself and 
congregation. The golden rule here is to pray really to 
God. That minister had no reason to feel flattered, whose 
prayer was commended as the most eloquent ever offered to 
a Boston congregation ! The mass of humanity before us 
should only be thought of, in order to express their wants, 
and to intercede for them at a throne of grace. The simpler 
our language the better it is fitted for this purpose. Gaudy 
rhetoric, and even the charm of melodious words, if in the 
slightest degree sought for, is out of place. The only praise 
that should be desired from a congregation, in regard to their 
pastor's prayers, is the acknowledgment that their holy 
yearnings and aspirations, as well as their needs, have been 
clearly expressed. All beyond this is disgusting. 



PRELIMINARIES. 103 

Neither should fervid utterance be strained after. If 
deep emotions arise, and express themselves in the voice, it 
is well. But without these, mere loudness of tone will be 
empty noise ; the prayer will be the hardest part of the 
service ; and complex metaphors and profuse poetical quota- 
tions will afford very inadequate relief. But if the heart be 
full it is easy to pray, and this renders all the remainder of 
the service easier. A bond of true spiritual sympathy unites 
the preacher with all the good in his congregation, and as 
he rises to speak, their prayers are given for his success. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE DIVISIONS INTRODUCTION DISCUSSION CONCLUSION. 

The sermon is the culmination of ministerial labor. Other 
duties are important, but preaching is highest of all. Ex- 
ample, conversation, private influence, only prepare the way 
for the great Sabbath work. In it the minister can speak 
to the assembled multitude with the freedom and boldness 
of truth. The believer receives deeper insight into God's 
ways, and directions for his own walk. The careless listen 
while he denounces impending wrath and shows the only 
means of escape. He wields tremendous power, and if sin- 
cere and unselfish, he cannot fail to win stars for his heavenly 
crown. 

We will consider the sermon under the three parts of 
introduction, discussion and conclusion. It is often divided 
more minutely, but these will be sufficient for our purpose. 

Nothing is harder to frame than a good introduction. It 
is indispensable, for, however we may approach our subject 
there is a first moment when silence is broken and our 
thoughts introduced. The rustle of closing hymn books 
and the subsiding inurmur of the audience, tell the speaker 
that the time has come. If he be sensitive, or has never 
spoken before, his pulse beats fast, his face flushes, an inde- 
scribable feeling of faintness and fear thrills every nerve. 
He advances to the pulpit, and reads from the Bible the 
words that are to be the warrant for his utterances, and 
breathing a silent prayer for help, opens his lips, and hears 
the tremulous echo of his own voice. 

There is a vast difference between reciting and extempor- 

104 



THE DIVISIONS. 105 

izing at first, and the advantage is all on the side of recita- 
tion. Every word is in its proper place, and the speaker is 
perfectly calm and self-confident. He is sure that his mem- 
ory will not fail in the opening, and will usually throw his 
whole power into it, causing his voice to ring clear and loud 
over the house. But it is different with the extempore 
speaker. He is sure of nothing, and the weight of the 
whole speech is heavy on his mind. He is glancing ahead, 
striving to forecast the coming sentences, as well as caring 
for those gliding over the tongue, and his first expressions 
may be feeble and ungraceful. Yet this display of modesty 
and timidity will conciliate the audience and secure their 
good will. We can scarcely fail to distinguish an extem- 
porized discourse from a recited one, by the difference in the 
introduction alone. 

Some persons commit the opening passages of the sermon, 
to avoid the pain and hesitancy of an unstudied beginning. 
But while this may accomplish the immediate object, it is 
apt to be at the expense of the remaining part of the dis- 
course. The mind cannot pass easily from recitation to ex- 
temporization, and the voice, being too freely used at first, 
loses its power. The hearers having listened to highly pol- 
ished language, cannot so well relish the plain words that 
follow, and the whole sermon, which, like the condor, may 
have pitched from Alpine summits, falls fast and far until 
the lowest level is reached. A written introduction may be 
modest and unpretending, but unless it is exactly like un- 
studied speech there will be a painful transition. 

A favorite method of avoiding these difliculties is to make 
no formal introduction, but plunge at once into the heart of 
the subject. Occasionally, this can be done to good advan- 
tage, and tends to prevent a monotonous uniformity. But 
as a rule it is better to prepare the minds of our hearers by 
all needed observations, and gradually lead them to our sub? 
ject. 

The introduction should not be left to the chance of the 
moment. It requires more careful study than any other 
5* 



106 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

part of the sermon, for the tide of speech, which may after- 
ward bear us over many barriers, is not then in full flow. 
But the preparation should be general, and not extend to 
the words. A first sentence may be forecast, but much be- 
yond this will do harm. For the introduction should not be 
the part of the discourse longest remembered. It would be 
better to omit it, than to have the attention distracted from 
the main subject. For this reason nothing far-fetched or 
hard to be understood should be admitted. But, beginning 
with some familiar thought closely connected with the text, 
it should remove difficulties and open the whole subject for 
discussion. 

Much is gained if, at the outset, we can arrest the atten- 
tion and win the sympathy of our hearers. They come 
together from many different employments, with thoughts 
fixed on various objects, and it is a difficult task to remove 
these distracting influences and cause the assembly to dwell 
with intense interest on one subject. Sometimes a startling 
proposition will accomplish this end. Earnestness in the 
speaker tends powerfully toward it. But sameness must be 
carefully avoided. If every sermon is carried through an 
unvarying number of always-expressed divisions and sub- 
divisions, the hearer knows what is coming, and loses all 
curiosity. We have heard of a minister who made it a rule 
to consider the nature, reason and manner of everything he 
spoke of. He would ask the questions : " What is it ? Why 
is it ? How is it ?" The eloquence of Paul would not many 
times have redeemed such an arrangement. 

A considerable degree of inattention is to be expected in 
every audience at first, and the speaker's opening words may 
be unheard by many and unheeded by all. It is useless to 
attempt by violent means and loudness of voice to awaken 
them from their indifference. The preacher may safely bide 
his time. If his words have weight and his manner indi- 
cate confidence, one by one will listen, until that electric 
thrill of sympathy, impossible to describe, but which can be 
felt as easily as an accord in music, will vibrate through the 






THE DIVISIONS. 107 

hearts of all present. Then the orator's power is fully de- 
veloped, and it is delightful to use it. This silent, pulsating 
interest is more to be desired than vehement applause, for 
it cannot be counterfeited, and indicates that the hearts of 
the assemblage have been reached, and fused by the fires of 
eloquence, and are ready to be molded into any desired form. 
Happy the minister who has this experience, for if his own 
heart is enlightened by the Holy Spirit, he can stamp on the 
awakened multitude the seal of undying truth. 

The introduction should be plain, simple and direct. But 
its very simplicity renders it more difficult to construct. 
Preachers who are great in almost everything else, often 
fail by making their introductions too complicated, thus 
defeating their own purpose as surely as the engineer who 
gives his road such steep grades, that no train can pass over 
it. Others deliver a string of platitudes that no one wishes 
to hear, and the audience grows restive at the very beginning. 

When from these or other causes, the sermon is misbegun, 
the consequences are likely to be serious. The thought is 
forced home on the speaker, with icy weight, that he is fail- 
ing, and this conviction paralyzes all his faculties. He talks 
on, but grows more and more embarrassed. Incoherent 
sentences drop from him, requiring painful explanation to pre- 
vent them from degenerating into perfect nonsense. The out- 
line of his plan dissolves into mist. The points he intended 
to make, and thought strong and important, now appear 
very trivial. He blunders on with little hope ahead. The 
room may grow dark before him, and in the excess of his 
discomfort, he ardently longs for the time when he can close 
without absolute disgrace. But, alas ! the end seems far off. 
In vain he searches for some avenue of escape. There is 
none. His throat becomes dry and parched, and the com- 
mand of his voice is lost. The audience grow restive, for 
they are tortured, as well as the speaker, and if he were 
malicious he might find some alleviation in this. But he 
has no time to think of it, or if he does, it reacts on himself. 
No one can help him. At last, in sheer desperation, he cuts 



108 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

the Gordian knot, and stops — perhaps seizing some swelling 
sentence, and hurling it as a farewell volley at the audience 
— or speaks of the eternal rest, which no doubt appears very- 
blissful in comparison with his own unrest — then sits down 
bathed in sweat, and feeling that he is disgraced forever ! 
If he is very weak or foolish, he resolves that he will never 
speak again without manuscript, or, if wiser, that he will 
not only understand his discourse, but how to begin it. 

The passage from the introduction to the discussion should 
be gradual. To make the transition smoothly, and strike 
the subject just at the right point, continuing the interest 
that may have been previously excited, is a most important 
achievement. A strong, definite purpose materially assists 
in this, for it dwells equally in all parts of the sermon. The 
object is clearly in view, and we go right up to it with no 
wasted words, while the people cheerfully submit to our 
guidance because they see that we have an aim before us. 
But if this be absent we may steer around our subject, and 
are never quite ready to enter upon it, even if we are not 
wrecked at the outset. A careful preparation of the plan 
will do much to prevent this, but it is not enough, for the 
words and phrases are not to be prepared. With every 
precaution, the best of speakers may fail at this point, and 
the more brilliant the introduction the more marked will the 
failure be. When this danger is safely passed, he is in the 
open sea, and the triumphs of eloquence are before him. 

There is great pleasure in speaking well. An assembly 
hanging on the words, and thinking the thoughts of a single 
man, gives to him the most subtile kind of flattery, and he 
needs to beware how he yields to its influence, or his fall will 
be speedy and disastrous. The triumphs of oratory are very 
fascinating. The ability to sway our fellow men at will — to 
bind them with the strong chain of our thought, and make 
them willing captives — produces a delirious and intoxicating 
sense of power. But this is very transient, and unless taken 
advantage of at the moment, to work some enduring result, 
it fades, like the beautiful cloud- work of morning, before the 



THE DIVISION. 109 

rising sun. Even during the continuance of a sermon it is 
hard to maintain the influence of a happy moment. Persons 
not unfrequently give utterance to some great and noble 
thought, that echoes in the hearts of the audience, and the 
nameless thrill of eloquence is felt, but some irrelevant 
phrase, or common-place sentiment dissolves all the charm. 
To avoid this, the whole discourse must be of a piece, and 
rise in power until the object is accomplished. 

Diffuseness is often supposed to be an essential quality of 
extemporaneous speech. It is not such, though many speak- 
ers do fall into it. The reason of this fault is that they are 
not content to place the subject in a strong light by one 
forcible and luminous expression, but say nearly what they 
mean, and continue their efforts until they are satisfied. 
They furnish no clear view of anything, but give a sort of 
twilight intimation of their idea. But serious as this fault 
is, it may easily be overcome. Exquisite finish, and elabor- 
ate arrangement are not to be expected in off-hand speech, 
but we may give force and true shading to every idea just 
as well as in writing. 

To express exactly what we mean at the first effort, is one 
of the greatest beauties of a spoken style. The hearer is 
filled with grateful surprise when some new and living idea 
is placed before him, clothed in a single word or sentence. 
But a diffuse speaker gives so many premonitions of his 
thought, that the audience comprehend it before he is half 
through the discussion, and are forced to await his ending, 
in listless weariness. He never receives credit for an original 
idea, because his advances toward it call up the same thought 
in the mind of his hearers, and when formally presented it 
has lost all novelty, and seems to be trite. 

The same study that will impart the power of condensa- 
tion in writing will do it in speech, for it can only be ob- 
tained in either by earnest, persevering effort. Frequently 
forecast what to say, and drive it into the fewest possible 
number of vivid, expressive words ; then, without memor- 
izing the language, reproduce the same thought briefly as 



110 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

possible in the hurry of speech. It may be less compact 
than the studied production, but if so, let the effort be re- 
peated with the knowledge of where the defect is, and this 
continued until it can be cast into bold, well-defined outlines 
at a single impulse. This process, often repeated, will give 
the ability to condense, but in order to exercise it success- 
fully another quality is needed. We must be able to resist 
the seduction of fine language. No sentence should be 
introduced because it glitters or sparkles, for a single un- 
necessary word that requires others to explain its use, may 
damage a whole sermon. Let the best words be chosen with 
reference to beauty and impressiveness as well as strict 
appropriateness, but the latter must never be sacrificed. 
The danger of showy language in speech is greater than in 
a written composition, for if the writer be drawn too far 
away, he can go back and begin again, while the speaker has 
only one trial. If beauties lie in his way all the better, but 
he must never leave his path to search for them. 

Bishop Simpson's lecture on " The Future of our Country," 
was a model of compactness. Every gaudy ornament was 
discarded, and short, simple sentences conveyed ideas that 
would have furnished a florid speaker with inexhaustible 
material. The whole discourse was radiant with true beauty 
— the beauty of thought shining through the drapery of 
words, and each idea, unweakened by any pause of expecta- 
tion, struck the mind as new truth, or the echo of what was 
felt, but never so well expressed before. 

We have seen directions for " expanding thought," and have 
heard young speakers admire the ease and skill with which 
it was done. But thoughts are not like medicines which 
require dilution in order to be more certain in their effects, 
and more readily taken. It is far better to give the essence 
of an idea, and go on to something else. If thoughts are 
too few, it is more profitable to dig and delve for others, than 
to attenuate and stretch what we have. We need deep, 
burning, throbbing conceptions that will live without arti- 
ficial aid. 



THE DIVISION. Ill 

A similar error exists in regard to the kind of language 
best adapted to oratory. High-sounding epithets and latin- 
ized words are sometimes supposed to be the proper dress 
of eloquence. These might give an impression of our learn- 
ing or wisdom to an ignorant audience, but could not strike 
the chords of living sympathy that link all hearts together. 
Language is only available as a medium, so far as hearer and 
speaker understand it in common. If we use a term the 
congregation have seldom heard, even if they can arrive at 
its meaning, it will lose all its force whilst they are striving 
to understand it. But one of the homely Saxon words that 
dwell on the lips of the people, will unlade its meaning in 
the heart as soon as its sound strikes the ear. For while 
uncommon words erect a barrier around thought, familiar 
ones are perhaps not noticed at all, leaving the feeling to 
strike directly to its mark. 

The only reason why Saxon derivatives are so powerful, 
is because they are usually the words of every-day life. But 
the test of usefulness is not in etymology. If terms of Latin 
or French origin have passed into the life of the people, they 
will serve the highest purpose of the orator. Of course, all 
debased and slang words should be rejected. We do not 
plead for " the familiarity that breeds contempt." The two 
great requisites in the use of words are, that they should 
exactly express our idea, and be familiar to the audience. 
Melody and association should not be despised, but they 
are secondary. 

Every sermon should have strong points upon which 
especial reliance is placed. A general has his choice bat- 
talions reserved to pierce the enemy's line at the decisive 
moment, and win the battle. It is important to know how 
to place these reserved thoughts, that all their weight may 
be felt. 

A crisis occurs in nearly every sermon — a moment when 
a strong argument or a fervent appeal will produce the result 
intended, or when failure becomes inevitable — just as a vigor- 
ous charge, or the arrival of reinforcements, will turn the 



112 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

scale of battle, when the combatants grow weary and dis- 
pirited. The speaker, knowing what his object is, should so 
dispose his forces as to drive steadily toward it, and when 
within reach, put forth all his power in one mighty effort, 
achieving the result for which the whole speech was intended. 
If neglected, such chances seldom return, and an hour's talk 
may fail to accomplish as much as one good burning sentence 
thrown in at the right time. This should be foreseen, and 
the idea, which we know to be the key of our discourse, care- 
fully prepared — in thought, not word. 

Quotations, either in prose or poetry, may be often used 
to good advantage, but should be short, appropriate and 
secondary. The grand effect of an extempore discourse 
must not depend on a borrowed passage, or its character will 
be changed, and its originality lost. 

We have all along taken it for granted that deep thought 
underlies the whole discourse. Without this, a sermon or 
any serious address deserves no success. Under some cir- 
cumstances nothing is expected but sound to tickle the ear. 
This is play, while the eloquence of the pulpit is solemn 
work. The very fact that the speaker has a solid and worthy 
foundation, gives him confidence. He knows that if his 
words are not ringing music, he will still have a claim on 
the attention of his auditors. 

It is not necessary that our thoughts should extend far 
beyond the depths of the common mind, for the most weighty 
truths lie nearest to the surface, and within the reach of all. 
But most men do not dwell long enough on one subject to un- 
derstand even its obvious features, and when these are fully 
mastered and presented in striking form, it is like a new rev- 
elation. A good illustration of this is found in the sublimity 
that Kitto imparts to the journeyings of the Israelites. Very 
few new facts are stated, but all are so arranged and vivified 
by a thoughtful mind, that the subject grows into new mean- 
ing. Let the preacher, by speaking extempore, save his 
time for investigation and study, and his sermons will soon 
have a charm beyond any jingling combination of words. 



THE DIVISION. 113 

Is the minister, as he stands before a congregation with 
their eyes fixed upon him, to expect them to be overwhelmed 
by his eloquence ? Such a result is possible, but is seldom 
attained, especially when sought for. If persons attempt 
what is beyond their power, the only result will be to render 
themselves ridiculous. But good sense and solid usefulness 
are within the reach of all. Any man who studies a subject 
till he knows more about it than others do, can interest 
them in a fireside explanation, if they care for the matter at 
all. He communicates his facts in a plain style and they 
understand him. Many persons will sit delighted till mid- 
night to hear a man converse, but will go to sleep if he 
address them half an hour in public. In the first case he 
talks, and is simple and unaffected ; in the other he speaks, 
and uses a style stiffened up for the occasion. When Henry 
Clay was asked how he became so eloquent, he said he knew 
nothing about it ; when he commenced an address he had 
only the desire to speak what he had prepared (not com- 
mitted), and adhered to this until he was enwrapped in his 
subject and carried away, he knew not how. This is a char- 
acteristic of the modern, as opposed to the ancient, school of 
eloquence. The latter memorized, while our greatest speak- 
ers only arrange, and speak in a plain, business style, until 
hurried by the passion of the moment into bolder flights. 
If this does not happen, they still give a good and instruct- 
ive speech. 

These few considerations may be of use when the speaker 
stands in the pulpit, but he must rely on his own tact for 
the management of details. Closely observing the condi- 
tion of the audience, taking advantage of every favoring 
circumstance, he moves steadily towards his object. With 
an unobstructed road before him, which he has traveled in 
thought until it is familiar, he will advance with ease and 
certainty. As he <?azes into the intent faces around, new 
ideas arise, and, if fitting, are woven into what was pre- 
viously prepared, often with thrilling effect. Each emotion 
kindled by sympathy will embody itself in words that touch 



114 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

the heart as nothing prepared could do, and each moment 
his own conviction sinks deeper in the hearts of his hearers. 

There are three principal ways of concluding a sermon. 
The first, and most graceful, is to condense a clear 
view of the whole argument, and leave the audience with 
the comprehensive impression thus made. This is admirably- 
adapted to discourses the principal object of which is to con- 
vince the understanding. To throw the whole sweep of the 
argument, every point of which has been enforced, into a few 
telling, easily remembered sentences, will go far to make the 
impression permanent. 

The old plan of closiDg with an exhortation, is perhaps 
the most generally beneficial. An application is the same 
thing in substance, only a little less pungent and personal. 
In it the whole sermon is made to bear on the duty of the 
moment. It should be closely connected with what went 
before ; for a general exhortation, fitting the end of every 
sermon, cannot well apply to any. All the sermon should 
be gathered up, as it were, and hurled as a solid mass into 
the hearts and consciences of those whom we wish to affect, 
thus making it a real " thrust," of which the exhortation is 
the barbed point. It should be short, and no new matter 
introduced at the time the audience are expecting the end. 

The third method is to break off when the last item is 
finished. If the lines of the argument are few and simple, or 
so strong that they cannot fail to be remembered, there is 
no need to recapitulate them. And if the exhortation has 
kept pace with the progress of the sermon, there is no place 
for it at the close. If both these coincide, a formal conclu- 
sion would be a superfluity. It is only necessary to finish 
the development of the plan, care being taken that the last 
idea discussed shall be one of dignity and importance. This 
is simply stopping when done, and is certainly an easy 
method of closing, though, in practice, too often neglected. 



CHAPTER V. 



AFTER CONSIDERATIONS — SUCCESS — REST IMPROVEMENT. 

When we have concluded a fervent discourse, especially 
if successful, there comes a feeling of inexpressible relief. 
For the burden of a speech accumulates on the mind, from 
the time the subject is chosen, until it grows almost intoler- 
able. When we begin to speak all our powers are called 
into play, and exerted to the limit of their capacity. The 
excitement of the conflict hurries us on, and although we 
may not realize the gigantic exertions we put forth, yet 
when we pause, with the victory won, the sense of relief and 
security is exceedingly delightful. Yet we must not indulge 
too deeply in the self-gratulation so natural at such a moment. 
If we have conquered, it has been in God's name, not our 
own, and the first thing to be done is to offer him thanks 
for our preservation. This is but the complement of the 
prayers made at the beginning of the service, for if we ask 
help with fear and trembling, before the real perils of speech 
begin, it would be very wrong, in the hour of triumph, to 
cease to remember the arm upon which we leaned. But by 
pouring out our thankfulness to God, we are at the same 
time preserved from pride and undue exultation, and encour- 
aged to depend upon Him more fully the next time we speak. 

If the effort has been an earnest one, both mind and body 

need rest. There are speakers who profess to feel no fatigue 

after an hour's labor, but these seldom occupy a place in the 

first class. If the soul has really been engaged, and all the 

(115) 



116 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

powers of mind and body bent to the accomplishment of a 
great object, relaxation must follow, and often a sense of 
utter prostration. It is well, if possible, to abandon ones- 
self to the luxury of rest — that utter repose so sweet after 
severe labor. Even social intercourse should be avoided. 
A short sleep, even if only for a few minutes, will afford 
great relief, and it is much to be regretted that circum- 
stances so often interfere with the enjoyment of such a 
luxury. After the morning service, especially if the minis- 
ter has to preach again in the evening, all labor, even in the 
Sabbath-school, should be avoided, although, before preach- 
ing, such toil will only form a grateful introduction to the 
duties of the day. No practice is more pernicious than that 
of inviting the minister to meet company, at dinner-parties 
or elsewhere, immediately after service. This is objection- 
able for two reasons ; the conversation at such parties sel- 
dom accords with the sanctity of the Sabbath, and if unex- 
ceptionable in this respect, a continued tax is made upon 
the already exhausted brain — a tax greater during such a 
state of relaxation and languor, than ten-fold the labor 
would be at another period. Let the preacher, when he 
can, retire to the privacy of his own home, and there enjoy 
the freedom of untrammelled rest. 

It is well to ponder closely the lessons derived from each 
new experience in speaking. The minister can never exactly 
measure his own success, and may often lament as a failure 
that effort which has accomplished great good. He has in 
his mind an ideal of excellence by which he estimates his ser- 
mons. If this be placed very low, he may succeed in com- 
ing up to it, or even pass beyond it, without accomplishing 
anything worthy of praise. But in such a case he is apt to 
be well satisfied with the result. And often the sermons 
with which we are least pleased, are really the best. For 
in the mightiest efforts of mind the standard is placed very 
high — sometimes beyond the limit of possible attainment, 
and the speaker works with his eye fixed upon the summit, 
and often, after all his exertions, sees it shining above him 



AFTER CONSIDERATIONS. 117 

still, and closes with the conviction that his ideas are but 
half expressed. He feels mortified that there should be such 
difference between conception and execution. But his 
hearers, who have been led over untrodden fields of thought, 
know nothing of the heights still above the orator's head, 
and are filled with -enthusiasm, or have received new im- 
pulses to good. This is the reason why we are least able to 
judge of the success of sermons that have been long medi- 
tated, and are thoroughly prepared. The subject expands 
as we study it, and its outlines become grander and vaster, 
until they pass beyond our power of representation. And 
each separate thought that is mastered also becomes familiar, 
and is not valued at its full worth by the speaker. If he had 
began to speak without thought, intending to give only the 
easy and common views of his subject, all would have been 
fresh to him, and if a striking idea presented itself, its nov- 
elty would have enhanced its appreciation. This is no rea- 
son against diligent preparation, but rather a strong argu- 
ment in favor of it. It should only stimulate us to improve 
our powers of expression as well as of conception. 

But with all these sources of uncertainty in our judgment 
of our own productions, we should not be indifferent to our 
perceptions of success or failure. In the greater number of 
instances will be correct, and we can very frequently dis- 
cover the cause of either, and use this knowledge to future 
profit. 

Even if we imagine our failure to be extreme, we have no 
need to feel unduly discouraged. God can, and does, often 
work with the feeblest instruments, and the sermon we 
despise may accomplish its purpose. The writer preached 
one evening when very weary, and almost unprepared. From 
first to last a painful effort was required to find anything to 
say, and to prevent utter failure the intended plan had to 
be abandoned, and new, detached thoughts thrown in as 
they could be found. And yet that discourse, which was 
scarcely worthy of the name, elicited warmer approval, and 
apparently accomplished more good, than any one from the 



118 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

same preacher ever given at that point. But such instances 
should never lead us to neglect all the preparation in our 
power, for usually when failure springs from a real defect, 
the verdict of the people will coincide with our own. 

However we may judge of our success it is not wise to 
ask any of our hearers for their opinion. We may observe 
any indications of the effect produced, and, if the criticisms 
of others are offered spontaneously, it is not necessary to 
repulse them, especially if they are marked by a spirit of 
candor and good will ; but all seeking for commendation is 
debasing. It is sweet to hear our sermons praised, and most 
of men can endure an amount of flattery addressed to them- 
selves, that would be disgusting if applied to others ; but if 
we indulge this disposition it will become ungovernable, and 
expose us to well -deserved ridicule. It is pitiable to see a 
man who is mighty in word and thought, who wields the 
vast powers of eloquence, stooping to beg crusts of indis- 
criminate praise from his hearers. Nothing contributes more 
to destroy our influence, and make our audience believe that 
we are merely actors, unaffected by the sublime truths we 
declare. 

It is well to think over our sermons after they have been 
preached, and if any defect appear, amend it in the plan, 
and add all the new ideas that may have been suggested dur- 
ing speech. This prepares us to preach still better when we 
have occasion to use the same plan a second time. 

Some ministers are accustomed to write their sermons 
after delivery. This may do well, especially when the theme 
is of great importance, but in general, it is questionable 
whether the advantage is great enough to warrant the ex- 
penditure of so much time. 

But to review and correct a verbatim report of our ser- 
mons would be far more profitable. If some short-hand 
writer — a member of our family, or any other who is willing 
to take so much trouble — will preserve our words for us, a 
revisal of them on Monday would be of immense benefit. 
The offensiveness of pet phrases, which we might otherwise 



AFTER CONSIDERATIONS. 119 

be unconscious of for years, would be detected at once. 
Faults of expression, and especially the profuseness of words, 
in which extempore speakers are apt to indulge, would be 
forced upon our notice ; and if any really valuable ideas 
occurred, they could be preserved. There would be little 
use in writing the sermon over in full, for we would com- 
monly find that it might be reduced to one-third or one- 
fourth its bulk without material injury. The habitual con- 
densation of our sermons after delivery, would teach us to 
express our thoughts compactly even in speech. 

The only difficulty in applying this capital means of im- 
provement, is the small number of persons who can write 
short-hand with sufficient rapidity — a difficulty that may be 
less in the future than it has been in the past, and can now 
be obviated by the minister's wife or daughters, who may 
have sufficient perseverance and devotion to master the 
laborious, but precious art for his sake. 



PART III 



MISCELLANEOUS ADDRESSES 



CHAPTER I. 



INSTRUCTIVE ADDRESS. 

We will give only a brief consideration to the various 
■fields of oratory outside the pulpit, because the greater num- 
ber of principles already laid down can be applied, with 
slight modifications, to any kind of speech. The different 
varieties of secular address may be divided as follows : 

I. Instructive Oratory. 
II. Legal " 

III. Deliberative " 

IV. Popular " 
V. Controversial " 

We apply the first term to all oral teaching, more con- 
nected than question and answer, and to all lectures that 
have instruction for their primary object. This species of 
discourse differs from the sermon in the absence of persua- 
sion, rather than in its positive character. The lecturer 
should thoroughly understand the topic he attempts to unfold, 
and place it in the clearest possible light. Much illustra- 
tion is needed, for the subject is usually a novel one to the 
greater portion of the audience, and can be best explained 
by comparison with familiar objects. It should have its 
strong central points, which can be easily remembered, and 
around which the minor parts of the discourse may be 
grouped, for if the whole consist of isolated facts poured 

(123) 



124 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

forth without generalization or arrangement, no distinct im- 
pression will be left. 

Appeals to passion and emotion are less necessary in lec- 
tures than in most other kinds of speech. Yet so closely 
are heart and intellect connected, that we can arouse atten- 
tion, and secure a more durable result, if the facts we nar- 
rate are linked with the experiences and emotions of life. 

The practice of writing is even more prevalent when 
applied to lectures than to sermons, and the reasons urged 
in its favor have more plausibility. As the lecturer does not 
aim to move his hearers to immediate action, the advantages 
of direct address are less required. Still he wishes to inter- 
est them, and it may be questioned whether this can, in any 
case, be so well accomplished from manuscript. But it is 
urged that in a scientific lecture there are often too great a 
number of detached facts to be easily remembered. This 
may be true, but it suggests another important question : if 
they cannot be recalled by the speaker who has reviewed 
them again and again for days together, how can it be 
expected that those who only hear them read over once, will 
retain any distinct impression ? A clearer generalization of 
the whole discourse, and a proper arrangement of each fact 
under the principle which it illustrates, would go far to 
obviate both difficulties. Yet, in the use of statistics or 
other items, about which the speaker wishes to be precise, 
though he may only care to give the audience a general con- 
ception of them, notes will be a great relief to the memory, 
and the statement of principles deduced can be still made in 
direct address. 

After a man has become so famous that each word he 
utters will be listened to with profound attention, because it 
comes from him, he may write safely. This is especially the 
case with those who have become authorities in their own 
departments of knowledge. What they say is received 
rather as a conclusion to argument, than as an assertion to be 
weighed, and the calm, deliberate reading of such final state- 
ments has all needed impressiveness. But if we have not 



INSTRUCTIVE ADDRESS. 125 

attained this position, we had better employ every legiti- 
mate means to interest our audiences. 

It is often claimed by the advocates of reading, that a 
literary lecture must be written to secure the polish and 
smoothness needful in the treatment of such themes. It 
will not do, say they, to give, in our words and manner, an 
illustration of the absence of the very qualities we praise. 
But surely men can speak on a subject they understand in 
good grammar and fitting language, without having first 
placed each word on paper ! And if they attempt much 
beyond this they lead the mind of the hearer from the sub- 
ject to a consideration of the skill of the lecturer. We are 
ready to grant that compositions should be read, not spoken, 
when ever they cease to instruct about something else, and 
become an exhibition in themselves. A poet is right in 
reading his poem ; and even in prose, if we wish to call 
attention to our melodious words, and our skill in literary 
composition, instead of the subject we have nominally taken, 
it w T ill be well to write. But the resulting composition will 
not be a lecture. 

The field for instructive lectures is constantly enlarging. 
In former times they were monopolized by university pro- 
fessors, and very few persons sought to teach the people. 
But this has changed. There are now many more schools 
where courses of lectures are given on various topics, and 
every town of any pretention has its annual lecture course. 
Even these are not sufficient to meet the increasing demand, 
and, as every community cannot pay Beecher or Gough from 
one to five hundred dollars for an evening's entertainment, 
there is abundant scope for humbler talent. Strolling lec- 
turers, without character or knowledge, reap a rich harvest 
from the credulity of the people. Even the noble science 
of phrenology is often disgraced by quacks, who perambu- 
late the country and pretend to explain its mysteries — some- 
times telling character and fortunes at the same time. So 
far has this prostitution of talent and opportunity gone, that 
the village lecturer is often placed in a category witli circus 



126 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

clowns and negro minstrels. But this should not be, and no 
class could do more to prevent it than the clergy. If they 
would each prepare a lecture or two upon some important 
subject they have mastered, they could extend their useful- 
ness, and teach others besides their own flocks. 

Lecturers are becoming more numerous and popular. New 
sciences and arts are continually springing into being, and 
there is no way that a knowledge of them can be so readily 
diffused among the masses of the people, as by public ad- 
dresses upon them. Even the oldest of the sciences — As- 
tronomy — has been brought to the knowledge of thousands 
who otherwise would have remained in ignorance of its mys- 
teries. It was thus that the lamented General O. M. Mitchel 
succeeded in awakening public interest, and in securing funds 
for the erection of his observatory at Cincinnati. 

Benefit lectures are very common. In these the services 
of the lecturer are given gratis, or for a nominal compensa- 
tion, and persons are induced to purchase tickets that some 
good cause may be benefited by the proceeds. This is the 
most pleasant of compromises, and is surely better than fairs, 
gift drawings, etc., although when the patronage of the pub- 
lic is thus secured for a lecture that has no real merit, the 
benefit is more questionable. 

The most important point in a lecture is that the subject 
be thoroughly understood, and so arranged that there may 
be no difficulty in grasping the whole thought. Vivacity 
and life will prevent the audience from growing weary ; wit, 
if it be true and delicate, will add to the interest, and has a 
far larger legitimate sphere than in a sermon. Ornaments, 
too, may abound, provided they do not call attention away 
from the subject, or weaken the force of expression. The 
plan of a lecture may be constructed in a manner similar to 
that of' a sermon, as the end in view is not very different. 
If this be well arranged, and all the principles, facts and 
illustrations be properly placed, no need of writing will be 
felt. 



CHAPTER n. 

MISCELLANEOUS ADDRESS LEGAL DELIBERATE POPULAR 

— CONTROVERSIAL. 

The speech adapted to the bench and bar presents some 
peculiar features. The lawyer deals with facts and living 
issues. He works for immediate results, and therefore uses 
the means best adapted to secure them. The use of manu- 
script, which increases in proportion as we remove from the 
sphere of passion, finds no place when life and property are 
at stake. The lawyer who would read his appeal to the 
jury in an exciting case, would have few others to make. 
At the bar the penalty for inefficiency is so rapid and cer- 
tain, that every nerve is strained to avoid it. To argue 
with a lawyer against the use of written discourses, would be 
like proving the advantage of commerce to an Englishman. 
His danger lies in the opposite direction — that of caring too 
little for polish, and of making the verdict of the jury his 
only aim. 

A lawyer should never contend for what he believes to be 
wrong. Yet the common estimate of the morality of 
attorneys is not based on fact. They may have greater 
temptations than some others, and many of them may fall, 
but another reason than this accounts for the grave imputa- 
tions cast on them. In every suit, at least one party must 
be disappointed, and it is natural that, in his bitterness, he 
should throw discredit on all the agencies by which his 
hopes were destroyed. But this is most frequently ground- 
less. The lawyer may be counsel for a man whom he knows 
to be in the wrong, but he ought never to take his stand on 

(127) 



128 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

a false position. He may show any weakness in his adver- 
sary's case, and see that all the provisions of the law are 
faithfully complied with, but must not endeavor to distort 
the truth. An adherence to this determination will soon 
give his words a power and influence that will more than 
counterbalance all disadvantages. Let him seek for the 
strong points in his own case, and then throw them into the 
simplest and boldest shape, not forgetting the importance 
of appealing to the heart, as well as head, of judge and jury. 

The judge differs from the advocate in having both sides 
of the case to present, and in seeking truth rather than vic- 
tory. As he stands upon the law, and unfolds its dictates, 
which are obeyed as soon as known, he has no need to appeal 
to passion, and can give his words with all calmness and 
certainty. 

Under the most absolute monarchy there are always some 
things that men are left to settle according to their own 
pleasure, and when a number of persons have equal interest 
and authority this can only be done by discussion. In our 
own land the people bear rule, and the field of deliberation 
is almost infinitely widened. City councils, State and na- 
tional legislatures, the governing societies of churches, par- 
ties, companies, and all organizations, have more or less of 
power to be exercised. If this were vested in a single will, 
silent pondering would determine each question, but in assem- 
blies these must.be decided by discussion, argument and vote.* 

There is one general peculiarity that marks the speeches 
addressed to such a body ; their main object is to give infor- 
mation. All are about to act, and are supposed to be diligently 
looking for the best course to be taken. This secures an 
interest in everything that really throws new light on the 
subject, while it often renders such an assemblage intolerant 
of mere declamation. In representative bodies there is also 
constant reference to the opinions and wishes of those for 
whom they act. 

* See rules for these in Appendix. 



MISCELLANEOUS A.DDR1 129 

.Such speeches are frequently intended to be read beyond 
the bounds of the audience where they are delivered, and 
for this reason are often elaborately prepared, and read at 
first. If they do truly give information, either in reference 
to principles or facts, they suffer from this less than any 
other class of addresses. They may be dry and unattractive 
in form, but if each concerned, feels that he is obtaining new 
facts for guidance, he will listen with patience. Yet, even 
then, a greater impression would be produced if the same 
accuracy and sureness of statement were embodied in spoken 
words. Let there first, be broad, statesmanlike views, a clear 
comprehension of the effects of measures, and perfect confi- 
dence in what we advocate, and then all the graces of speech 
may be added with the certainty that their effect will be that 
always produced by true eloquence. 

A popular address differs from a lecture in having an ele- 
ment of persuasion in it. In fact, this is its principal char- 
acteristic. When we desire to incline the hearts of the peo- 
ple to some favorite cause, we assemble them together, and 
labor by all the arguments we can command, to induce them 
to adopt our views and enter on the course we recommend. 
Energy and earnestness are the qualities most uniformly 
successful. The people care little for the subtile niceties of 
speech, but they require that the man who addresses them 
should believe what he says, and feel the power of his own 
reasoning. A deep, strong, unfaltering conviction is always 
an element of strength. 

Many speakers think it an advantage to adopt with the 
prejudices of the people, but they are mistaken. Temporary 
applause may be won, but second thoughts are apt to detect 
the lurking insincerity, even if they do not overthrow' the 
prejudice itself. If the speaker be really under the influence 
of the same misconception as the audience, this is a different 
matter, for hearty devotion, even to the wrong, is contagious. 
But calm reasoning and truth are always best. These gave 
Abraham Lincoln the superiority over Stephen A. Douglas, 
making him more effective with the people than the latter 



130 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

was, notwithstanding his fervid eloquence. The one appealed 
to the reason of the people, the other to passion. 

Humor has its place in the popular address not second to 
any other quality. A telling anecdote, or a good illustration 
(the homelier the better, if it be not coarse), will arrest atten- 
tion and dwell longer on the memory, than the strongest 
argument. 

Controversial oratory partakes of the nature of a battle, 
but should be something more than strife for victory. There 
is little danger of languid attention in this species of ad- 
dress, for opposition arouses both speaker and hearer. 

The golden rule in all controversies, is to be certain of a 
solid basis of fact, and follow the guidance of true princi- 
ples. Then we deserve success. But fair means only should 
be employed. It is so hard to see an adversary triumph even, 
when convinced of the correctness of his position, that we 
can scarcely forbear employing every artifice to prevent such 
a result. But we should never misrepresent our opponent. 
Even if he has been unfortunate in his explanations, and 
leaves the way open for a natural misconception, we should 
use our best efforts to understand what he really means, and 
give him the credit of that. We must also allow his reason- 
ing its due force. No just argument ought ever to be weak- 
ened. Let us bring forward our views, and, if possible, 
show that they are truer and more firmly based than his. 
And if we see that this cannot be done, there is only one 
manly course left — to surrender at discretion. If we cannot 
maintain our views by clear proof, we should abandon them, 
and seek others that need no questionable support. 



PART IV 



EMINENT EXTEMPORE SPEAKERS. 

AUGUSTINE — LUTHER — CHATHAM — PITT — BURKE — MIRABEAU 
PATRICK HENRY — WHTTEFIELD — WESLEY — SIDNEY SMITH — 
F. W. ROBERTSON — CLAY — BASCOM — SUMMERFLELD — 
SPURGEON — H. W. BEECHER — BINGHAM — GLAD- 
STONE — SIMPSON — WENDELL PHILLTPS — 
J. P. DURBIN. 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 



USE OF EXAMPLES. 

Notwithstanding the popularity of unwritten speech, 
and the innumerable arguments in its favor, there is an im- 
pression in some quarters that the very highest excellence 
cannot be attained without the previous use of the pen. It 
may be shown that it is more natural to find the words in 
which our thoughts are clothed at the moment of expres- 
sion ; that a stronger and better frame-work of thought can 
be constructed, if the mind, in preparing for speech, is occu- 
pied with that alone ; that the speaker and hearer may thus 
be brought into closer union ; that this, in short, is the 
order of nature, which leaves the solid frame-work of the 
tree standing through many winters, but each spring be- 
stows its graceful robe of leaves upon that which was pre- 
pared to receive it. But this is not enough to produce 
lasting conviction. It is still maintained, almost with 
obstinacy, that in the highest fields of oratory, words must 
be previously chosen, fitted together, and polished. 

This nearly every speech- writer proves from his own ex- 
perience. The efforts that have afforded him most satisfac- 
tion were those in which nothing had been left to the chance of 
the moment. But it is easy to see how even experience may 
mislead in this particular. We can judge the comparative 
merits of another in his different modes of address with some 
approach to accuracy, for our mental state — that of listeners — 
continues the same under them all. But it is different when 
we judge ourselves. When we extemporize, our best ex- 

(133) 



134 EXTEMPORE SPEAKINC. 

pressions fade from the mind after they have been given 
forth, and can only be recalled by a strong effort. On the 
other hand, when we have wrought our language slowly, 
and lingered over each sentence, we see all the beauty it 
contains, and begin to admire our own production. If we 
see anything faulty, instead of lamenting it, as we would an 
unfortunate, spoken sentence, we change it, and take credit 
for the keenness of our critical taste. Is it wonderful that 
when we come before an audience with an address made as 
nearly perfect as we can construct it in every line, and the 
whole clearly written, or firmly engraved on the memory, 
and then repeat it, with a full appreciation of each beauty as 
we pass along, that we consider it to be of far higher 
merit than the impassioned torrent poured forth on another 
occasion, when we scarcely knew that we were using words 
at all ? If the people do not seem to appreciate it, their want 
of taste and culture affords a ready excuse for them, even if 
the speaker is not too much occupied with his own eloquence 
to notice them at all. He is always ready, too, with the 
examples of Massillon and Bossuet, or of Chalmers, to 
prove that it was thus the most powerful orators spoke. 

We do not deny that great effects may be produced, under 
certain circumstances, by committed words. The fact that 
many actors have won great fame by repeating the words of 
others, proves how much may be done in this direction. It 
is but reasonable, that if some gifted minds can thrill an 
audience to tears, and rouse every feeling to its highest bent 
by merely copying others, that those who, in addition to this 
ability, possess the power of framing their own thoughts in 
suitable words, may accomplish as much. John B. Go ugh 
is an instance of the power that may be wielded in this man- 
ner. But such men cannot occupy the highest position in 
the temple of fame. They are but actors. When they speak 
they will be listened to with eagerness and pleasure, as 
great performers always are, but- it will be as performers 
rather than as authorities. They have placed themselves on 
a level with those who deal in unreal things, and there 



EMINENT SPEAKEES. 135 

they must be content to remain. Doubtless it is more noble 
to speak the sentiments and feelings that we once possessed, 
in the language adapted to that time, than to deal in those 
belonging to another person, but the resemblance between 
the two is very close, and the people feel it so acutely that 
they make no discrimination. 

But we maintain that even in momentary effect — the 
quality which is supposed to belong peculiarly to the pow- 
erful declamation of prepared language — extempore speak- 
ers have passed beyond all others ; while in power of thought 
and lasting influence, there can be no comparison. There is 
no single quality of speech that cannot be reached as well 
without writing as with it, while perpetual readiness, vast 
and profound knowledge (w 7 hich w r riting extensively leaves 
no time to acquire), and weight and authority with the peo- 
ple, belong almost exclusively to the extern porizer. 

These assertions may seem bold to many, but we are pre- 
pared to substantiate them. In the preceding pages we 
have aimed to show how this species of address may be ac- 
quired, and improved to an almost unlimited degree. The 
ideal thus sketched is not an impossible or imaginary one. 
It has often been attained, and for the encouragement of 
those who may be disposed to throw away their manuscripts, 
and trust to the method of nature, the following examples 
are selected. These are chosen because of their eminence, 
and also because of the wide variety of qualities displayed 
in their eloquence. Many more might be given, but these 
are sufficient for our purpose, which is to show that in every 
department of speech the highest eloquence that ever flowed 
from the lips of men has clothed itself in unpremeditated 
w T ords. 

In these sketches we, of course, make no pretention to 
originality, but have compiled what was adapted to our 
purpose from every available source. And as the matter so 
obtained has been frequently abridged, and two or three differ- 
ent accounts woven together, it has sometimes been impos- 
sible to give full credit. We are under especial obligation to 



136 EXTEMPORE SPEiriNG. 

the " New American Cyclopedia," Mosheim's Church History, 
Stephens's History of Methodism, Harsha's "Orators and 
Statesmen," " Kidder's Homiletics," with the current biog- 
raphies of the speakers treated of. 

Much of the oratory of antiquity was recited. This has 
been used as an argument to prove the comparative inferior- 
ity of that speech which is the offspring of the moment, 
forgetting the great difference between ancient and modern 
life — a difference arising from the greater diversity of the 
latter, and the nobler aims to which it gives birth. The 
typical Grecian oration is as much a work of art as a statue. 
It was made to be admired, and if, by the beauty of its ar- 
rangement, the melody of its language, and the elegance of 
its delivery, this object was achieved, the orator was satis- 
fied. It was so, to a less degree, in the classic age of Rome. 
The form of the oration was of greater importance than its 
matter, and it was judged that this would be best perfected 
by the use of the pen, and of the memory. Yet the prac- 
tice of antiquity on this point was far from uniform. Some 
of the noblest orators spoke extempore, and have less fame 
than those who adopted the opposite plan, only because at 
that time the art of reporting was too imperfect to preserve 
their eloquence. The effect they produced remains, and 
from it we obtain a faint view of their greatness. Pericles 
spoke without previous writing, and the sway bis speech 
established over his countrymen was more undisputed than 
that" of Demosthenes. The latter had an assemblage of 
talents that, with his tireless industry, would have made 
him eminent in any mode of address that he might have 
adopted ; but even he did not recite exclusively. 

The great rival of Cicero, Hortensius, whose wonderful 
power excited the emulation of the former, spoke from the 
impulse of the moment, as did many of the more eminent of 
the Roman orators. Cicero was a man of tireless energy. 
He applied himself to the study and practice of eloquence 
with a singleness of aim, and a concentration of purpose that 
may well command our admiration. He accumulated vast 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 137 

stores of knowledge, perfected his logic, raid improved his 
voice until it became music, and brought all the resources of 
a mighty mind to bear on oratory. It is not wonderful that 
he was listened to with profound attention, while he recited 
what he had previously composed. But some of his most 
brilliant passages were extemporaneous. The outburst that 
overwhelmed Cataline when he unexpectedly appeared in the 
senate, was coined, at white heat, by the passion of the mo- 
ment. 

The reason why so many of the ancients committed their 
speeches, was because they could not be preserved other- 
wise, unless the orator could remember and write down 
what he had said. Every unwritten speech perished, and 
left nothing but a dim memory of the results it had pro- 
duced. This is the reason why the extempore speakers 
of the ancient world are less known than the reciters. But 
the art of short-hand has effected a revolution in this par- 
ticular, and the most impassioned speeches are now photo- 
graphed for the admiration of future generations. The man 
who wishes his speech preserved is no longer compelled to 
write it. 

EARLY PREACHING IN THE CHURCH. 

"We may be sure that the preaching of Christ and the 
Apostles was without notes. It seems scarcely less than 
profanation to picture even the latter as reading from a pre- 
viously prepared manuscript, after they had been promised 
the help of the Spirit in the hour when help was needed ; and 
it is inconceivable that the Saviour should have taken any 
other mode of imparting His wisdom to men, than that of 
direct address. Paul deprecated the eloquence of mere 
words, although the sketch of his sermon on Mars' Hill, 
with other addresses, shows that he did not neglect the elo- 
quence of thought, and the strength of orderly, logical 
arrangement. We have no direct evidence of the manner of 
preaching in the first century, but from all intimations we 
are led to conclude that sermons were composed without the 



138 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

use of the pen, and consisted of easy, familiar scripture expo- 
sitions and deductions of moral lessons. Origen, the most 
celebrated divine of the third century, preached without 
manuscript, and Eusebius says of him : 

" Then, as was to be expected, our religion spreading more 
and more, and our brethren beginning to converse more 
freely with all, Origen, who they say was now more than 
sixty years of age, and who, from long practice, had ac- 
quired great facility in discoursing, permitted his discourses 
to be taken down by ready writers, a thing which he had 
never allowed before." 

This shows not only that he had been accustomed to 
preach extempore, but that he would not permit the sketches 
of his sermons which could be made by the imperfect re- 
porting of that day, to be published until late in life. This 
would' be very natural, when unstudied explanation was the 
main object of the address, but very unnatural if the sermon 
had been written according to the rules of rhetorical com- 
position. In the sermons of Chrysostom there are many 
passages which could not, from their nature, have been pre- 
conrposed, and these are among the most brilliant of all. 
But Augustine, who flourished in the fourth century, affords 
us a still more conclusive proof of the power of the natural 
mode of address. 

AUGUSTIXE. 

The father of this great man was a pagan, but his mother 
was a Christian. She was a most remarkable woman, and from 
her he doubtless inherited some of the strongest elements of 
his character. Her prayers for his conversion were almost 
continual, but for many years produced no apparent result. 
He plunged into many excesses, and lived a most irregular 
life, but from this he was aroused by the death of his father, 
and by the study of philosophy. For a time the latter 
seemed to satisfy his ardent mind, but soon he saw its in- 
sufficiency, became an earnest searcher for truth, and ex- 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 139 

plored the writings of the sages of antiquity without being 
able to find anything on which he could rest. The problems 
of life pressed upon him with a terrible weight, and he was 
too profound a thinker to be satisfied with any superficial 
explanation. The doctrine of the ancient Persians — that of 
the two antagonistic principles of good and evil in the world 
— for a while charmed his imagination, but its influence over 
him soon passed away. During all this time he was rising 
in fame as a teacher of rhetoric and eloquence, and had es- 
tablished a school in Rome which became widely celebrated. 

His reputation as a teacher caused him to be summoned to 
Milan, where the Emperor then was. The great preacher, 
Jerome, then in the zenith of his power, officiated in that 
city. Augustine heard him, and felt that his doubts were 
answered. But it required a terrible struggle before he 
could yield, and it was only after he had passed the whole 
series of Christian doctrines in review, and tested them by 
all his mighty power of argument, that he at last reposed in 
the truth. The joy of his good mother can scarcely be con- 
ceived at this answer to her unceasing prayer, and she soon 
passed away triumphantly. He spent a short period in 
seclusion and profound meditation, was then baptized, and 
four years after began to preach. 

The success of Augustine was as great in preaching as it 
had been in teaching, and he was promoted to the office of 
Bishop. His power was soon felt all over the Christian 
world. He at once entered on a course of labor like that of 
Whitfield and Wesley, but still more varied. He preached 
once every day, and sometimes twice ; visited the sick and 
poor with great assiduity; governed his diocese wisely; 
was the Christian champion against almost innumerable 
forms of heresy all over the world ; composed some most 
beautiful hymns; wrote extensive commentaries that are 
still valued ; kept up a vast correspondence with emperors, 
kings, and church dignitaries everywhere ; and indited works 
of theology, literature, criticism, and philosophy in immense 
profusion. Some of these will live as long as the language 



140 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

in which they are written is known. For thirty-five years 
he remained at his post, and died at last, while his city was 
beleagured by a barbarian army, in time to escape witness- 
ing the ruin that burst on the flock he had so long loved and 
served. 

The power of Augustine as a preacher can scarcely be 
overrated. Everywhere the people flocked to hear him, and 
the most enduring fruits followed his ministry. His ser- 
mons were not calculated simply to win admiration for the 
preacher, but pointed to the holier life, and led men to love 
and strive after it. He was the real founder of what is 
known at the present day as Calvinism, and by his vast 
power made it the prevailing doctrine of the church for cen- 
turies after his death. There can be no question about his 
sincerity and earnestness, and just as little regarding the 
influence of his solemn eloquence. He quieted tumults, 
changed the opinions of whole towns, and wielded assem- 
blies at his will. He left a large number of sermons in a 
fragmentary condition, but fully justifying all that his con- 
temporaries have written of him. 

It is not possible that such a man should have read or 
recited his discourses. To have done so would have left 
him no time for such grand works as the " Confessions," 
" City of God," and others too numerous to mention, which 
will endure while the world stands. But he has not left us 
in doubt as to his mode of preaching. He enjoins the 
" Christian teacher " to make his hearers comprehend what 
he says, " to read in the eyes and countenances of his audi- 
tors whether they understand him or not, and to repeat the 
same thing by giving it different terms, till he perceives that 
it is understood, an advantage which those cannot have who, 
by a servile dependence on their memories, learn their ser- 
mons by heart, and repeat them as so many lessons. Let 
not the preacher become the servant of words ; rather let 
words be servants to the preacher." In his charity, how- 
ever, he does allow of reciting under certain .circum- 
stances. "Those who are destitute of invention, but can 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 141 

speak well, provided they select well written discussions of 
another man and commit them to memory for the instruc- 
tion of their hearers, will not do badly if they take this 
course." 

LUTHER. 

The name of Luther is so well known that it will not be 
necessary to give more than a very brief sketch of his won- 
derful life. The peasant, who was raised by his virtues 
to more than kingly power, and to be the leader of the great- 
est religious movement of modern times, cannot be a stranger 
to the world. Luther was bred in the midst of poverty and 
almost of want. As he grew older, his father, who was a 
kind-hearted, though stern man, began to rise in the world, 
and found means to send him to school. The patronage of 
a wealthy lady named Cotta, was also of great benefit to 
him. He was distinguished very early for quickness and 
profundity of intellect, and the highest hopes were formed 
of him. But in the midst of flattering prospects, he was 
deeply convicted of sin, and terrified concerning his spiritual 
'state. After he had spent a long time in mental struggles, 
full of agony, he resolved to become a monk, as the surest 
way of allaying all doubt, and obtaining the spiritual rest 
for which he longed. His father never forgave this step, until 
his son stood in direct opposition to the power of Rome. 
But the ardent heart of Luther could not find peace in the 
dull routine of a convent life, and every spiritual trial was 
redoubled. At last, while he was reading in an old copy of 
the Bible, which he had found in the library of the convent, 
the great doctrine of justification by faith dawned upon 
him with all the freshness of a new revelation. He at once 
began to teach the people the same blessed doctrine, with 
the most gratifying results. His preaching was marked by 
great power, and soon his sphere widened. He was made a 
doctor of divinity in the University of Wittenberg, and 
began to lecture on Paul's Epistles, and the Psalms. He 
was still a devoted adherent of Rome, although he taught 



142 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

the students under his care to look to the Scriptures as the 
fountain of all authority. But the germs of the Reforma- 
tion were already hid in his own mind, and it only required 
circumstances to bring them into vigorous life. 

These were soon supplied. When a monk came to Wit- 
tenberg, selling pardons for every kind of sin, even that 
which was to be committed, Luther felt it his duty to warn 
the people against any dependence on such sources of for- 
giveness. The Pope took part with the monk in the strife 
that followed; and the contest went from one point to an- 
other, until the Pope hurled a decree of excommunication at 
Luther, which he burned, in the presence of his adherents, 
as a token of defiance and contempt. The reformation spread 
wonderfully, and although surrounded on every side by 
threatenings and enemies, the life of this great man was 
spared, and for years he exerted an influence in Germany 
not second to that of the Emperor himself. When he fell at 
last, in the midst of his labors, the people mjpurned for him 
as for a personal benefactor. 

All through his life, Luther had the secret of reaching the 
hearts of the people in a wonderful manner. No other of the 
great men who abounded at that time possessed a tithe of 
his power in this respect. It has been said " that his words 
were half battles." His discourses were not smooth or 
graceful, yet it was not for want of ability to secure these 
qualities, for he had great command of every style of lan- 
guage, and loved softer and more ornamented speech in 
others ; but he was too much in earnest, with an empire, and 
the vastest hierarchy the world ever saw, arrayed against 
him, to stay to use them. Whenever he preached the peo- 
ple would flock together from great distances, and listen as 
to a prophet, while he unfolded the grand and simple plan of 
salvation in the plainest words. He had every element of a 
great preacher. His imagination was most vivid, and he did 
not fail to use it to the utmost. He could paint a scene in 
all the completeness of action before his hearers, and awaken 
their tears or smiles at his will. He used no manuscript, but 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 113 

spoke from the vast fulness of knowledge he possessed on 
every subject. His pen was employed as well as his voice. 
By it he not only produced a great number of books that 
advanced the cause of the Reformation almost as much as his 
spoken efforts, but by the combination of the two methods 
of expression, writing to meet the eye and speaking for the 
ear, he taught himself both accuracy and readiness, and was 
thus prepared for the part he was called upon to act. Added 
to these, were his strong emotions, and indomitable will, 
which gave him an energy that bore every thing before him. 
For beauty and grace in themselves he cared nothing, but 
when they came unbidden, as they often did, they were wel- 
come. He rightly estimated his own character and work 
when he said " that he was rough, boisterous, stormy, and 
altogether warlike ; born to fight innumerable devils and 
monsters, to remove stumps and stones, to cut down thistles 
and thorns, and to clear the wild woods." 

LORD CHATHAM. 

It may well be doubted whether the eloquence of this 
great and wonderful man did not surpass that of either Ci- 
cero or Demosthenes. It is certain that the effects he re- 
peatedly produced have never been surpassed. And he had 
not to deal with a populace easily moved, although cultiva- 
ted in some particulars, as they had ; but his mightiest 
triumphs were won in the British Parliament, from an acute, 
critical, and often hostile assembly. His example, with that 
of his son, who was almost equally great, afford an irrefu- 
table answer to those who doubt the capacity of unwritten 
speech to convey impressions as mighty as any ever pro- 
duced by man. 

He was born in 1708, and was educated at Oxford, quit- 
ting it without a degree, but with a brilliant reputation. 
Soon after he entered Parliament, and gained such power 
that he was shortly advanced to the office of Prime Minis- 
ter. This was in the reign of George II. and at the opening 
of the Seven Years War, by which England won the province 



144 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

of Canada, and became the most powerful empire in the 
world. But when he took the reins of government it was 
far different. The armies of the nation had been beaten in 
every quarter, and the people were almost in despair. But 
he infused new spirit into them, and by his energy and far- 
sighted combinations, won the most glorious series of tri- 
umphs that ever erowned the arms of England. His fame 
did not cease when he left the ministry, and, in America at 
last, he is best known for his friendly words to us during the 
revolutionary war. He opposed with all the strength of his 
wondrous eloquence the oppressive measures that provoked 
the colonists to revolution. Yet there was no element of 
fear or compromise in his disposition. He only opposed the 
ministry in their government of our country because he be- 
lieved their measures to be unjust. But when, after seven 
years of defeat and disaster, the body of the nation became 
convinced that the Americans never could be conquered, and 
the proposition was made to recognize their independence, 
Chatham fought against the accomplishment of the separa- 
tion with all his vigor. He made his last speech on this 
subject, and while the house was still under the solemn awe 
that followed his address, he was stricken down by apo- 
plexy and borne home to die. 

We have little upon which to base an estimate of this 
almost unequalled orator, save the effect he produced upon 
his contemporaries. Nothing has been preserved of his 
speeches, but a few passages that stamped themselves indeli- 
bly upon the minds of his hearers. Yet through his elo- 
quence, backed by his strong will, he was for many years . 
virtually dictator of England, and even when most alone, 
scarcely any one dared to meet him in debate. 

Many curious instances are given of the uncontrolled as- 
cendency he obtained over the House of Commons. His 
most celebrated rival was Murray, Earl of Mansfield, who 
had just been promoted to the office of Attorney-General, 
when the incident narrated below occurred. Chatham made 
a speech, really intended to overwhelm Murray, but on a 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. X. 145 

totally different subject. Fox says " every word was Mur- 
ray, yet so managed that neither he nor anybody else could 
take public notice of it or in any way reprehend him. I sat 
near Murray, who suffered for an hour. At its close he used 
an expression that at once became proverbial." After the 
unhappy Attorney had writhed for a time, and endured the 
terrible, but indirect, satire of Chatham until endurance was 
scarcely possible any longer, the latt^' stopped, threw his 
pierciug eyes around as if in search of something, then fixing 
their whole force on his victim, exclaimed, "I must now 
address a few words to Mr. Attorney ; they shall be few, but 
they shall be daggers ! " Murray was agitated ; the look 
was continued, and the agitation became so uncontrollable 
as to be noticed by the whole house. "Felix trembles" 
roared Chatham, in a voice of thunder u ke shall hear me some 
other day." Murray was too completely stricken to attempt 
a reply. 

On another occasion, having finished a speech, he walked 
out of the house with a slow step, being at the time a ha- 
bitual invalid. There was a profound silence until he was 
passing through the door. Then a member started up, say- 
ing, " Mr. Speaker, I rise to reply to the right honorable 
gentleman." Chatham caught the sound, turned back, and 
fixed his eye on the orator, who instantly sat down. He 
then walked slowly to his seat, repeating in Latin, as he 
hobbled along, the Hnes from Virgil, in which is described 
the terror of the Grecian ghosts when ^Eneas entered the 
dark realm : 



14 The Grecian chiefs 

When they beheld the man with shining arms 
Amid those shades, trembled with sudden fear, 

and raised 
A feeble outcry ; but the sound commenced, 
Died on their gurgling lips." 

Reaching his seat, he exclaimed in a tone that terrified the 
whole house, " Now let me hear what the honorable gentle- 
man has to say to me." There was no response, and the 

7 



146 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

whole body was too much awed to laugh at the situation 
of the poor orator. 

Yet he did not deal in the terrible and overpowering all 
the time. In a most eloquent speech in opposition to a 
measure that he believed violated the sanctity of the Eng- 
lish home, he gave the following description of that privi- 
lege which is justly the proudest boast of an Englishman. 
A single passage is all that remains, but it will not soon 
be forgotten : 

" The poorest man may in his cottage bid defiance to all 
the forces of the Crown. It may be frail — its roof may 
shake — the wind may blow through it — the storm may 
enter — the rain may enter — but the King of England can- 
not enter ! — all his forces dare not cross the threshold of 
the ruined tenement ! " 

Lord Macaulay, who was in no sense friendly to the great 
orator, gives him a glowing eulogy : 

"His figure, when he first appeared in Parliament, was 
strikingly graceful and commanding, his features high and 
noble, his eye full of fire. His voice, even when it sank to 
a whisper, was heard to the remotest benches ; when he 
strained it to its full extent, the sound rose like the swell of 
the organ of a great cathedral, shook the house with its 
peal, and was heard through lobbies, and down staircases, 
to the Court of Requests, and the precincts of Westminster 
Hall. He cultivated all these eminent advantages with the 
most assiduous care. His action is described by a very ma- 
lignant observer as equal to that of Garrick. His play of 
countenance was wonderful ; he frequently disconcerted a 
hostile orator by a single glance of indignation or scorn. 
Every tone, from the impassioned cry to the thrilling aside, 
was perfectly at his command." 

He was a truly extemporaneous speaker, and seldom 
attempted any other style. When he did he failed. His 
memory was strong and retentive, and his mind so fully 
stored with information on every subject that he was always 
ready for debate. Some of his grandest efforts were called 
forth by an unexpected circumstance, or a single glance of 
his eye. Once, while replying to Suffolk, he caught a view 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 147 

of the tapestry on which was painted some of the achieve- 
ments of the ancestors of that lord, and instantly seized the 
hint it conveyed and gave expression to one of the noblest 
bursts of eloquence in any language. One of his contempo- 
raries says: 

" When without forethought or any other preparation than 
those talents nature had supplied, and education cultivated, 
Chatham rose — stirred to anger by some sudden subterfuge 
of corruption, or device of tyranny — then was heard an elo- 
quence never surpassed either in ancient or modern times. 
It was the highest power of expression ministering to the 
highest power of thought." 



WILLIAM PITT. 

The manner in which the younger Pitt succeeded to the 
talents and position of the elder is one of the most wonder- 
ful things in history. His father trained him from his in- 
fancy in the models which he himself had imitated so suc- 
cessfully. Some of these means of improvement, which at 
least assisted in producing the peculiar character of the 
eloquence of father and son, are worthy of our attention. 
They both translated from the best classical authors, com- 
mitted to memory choice passages from the poets, and 
prose writers they valued, thus acquiring great command 
of words. With such previous training, it would have been 
useless for them to write even in their most elaborate efforts. 

When the younger Pitt had finished the traditional college 
course and was admitted to the bar, he also entered Parlia- 
ment, being then only twenty-three years of age. He de* 
livered his first speech, which was entirely unpremeditated, 
only about a month afterward. It took the house by storm. 
In the midst of that brilliant assembly, accustomed to the 
eloquence of Fox, Burke, and others worthy of any age, there 
was a universal burst of enthusiastic admiration. When 
some one remarked, " Pitt promises to be one of the first 
speakers ever heard in Parliament," Fox replied, " He is so 
already." 



148 EXTEMPORE SPEAKIXG 

When only twenty-four years of age he was made Prime 
Minister, and held the post for seventeen years. Although 
there is room for a wide difference of opinion regarding many 
of his acts during this time, there is none concerning his 
ability. Among other reforms that he advocated was the 
abolition of the slave trade. He made a speech on this sub- 
ject that is still celebrated. Wilberforce said that " for the 
last twenty minutes he really seemed to be inspired." Wind- 
ham declares " that he walked home lost in amazement at the 
compass, until then unknown to him, of human eloquence." 
Pitt died at the comparatively early age of forty-seven, hold- 
ing the highest office in the gift of his country. 

Brougham gives a glowing account of his power as an ora- 
tor. " He is to be placed without any doubt in the highest 
class. With a sparing use of ornament, hardly indulging 
more in figures, or even in figurative expression, than the 
most severe examples of ancient ehasteness allowed — with 
little variety of style, hardly any of the graces of manner — 
he no sooner rose than he carried away every hearer, and 
kept the attention fixed and unflagging until it pleased him 
to let it go ; and then 

11 ' So charming left his voice that we awhile 

Still thought him speaking, still stood fixed to hear.' 

" This magical effect was produced by his unbroken flow, 
which never for a moment left the hearer in pain or doubt, 
and yet was not the mean fluency of mere relaxation, requir- 
ing no effort of the speaker, but imposing on the listener a 
heavy task ; by his lucid arrangement, which made all parts 
of the most complicated subject quit their entanglement and 
fall each in its place; by the clearness of his statements 
which presented a picture to the mind; by the forcible 
appeals to strict reason and strong feeling which formed the 
great staple of the discourse ; by the majesty of the diction ; 
by the depth and fullness of the most sonorous voice and 
the unbending dignity of the manner, which ever reminded 
us that we were in the presence of more than the mere advo- 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 149 

cate and debater, that there stood before us a ruler of the 
people. Such were the effects invariably of this singular 
eloquence; nor did anything, in any mood of mind, ever 
drop from him that was unsuited to the majestic frame of 
the whole, or could disturb the serenity of the full and 
copious flood that rolled along." 

Macaulay says : u At his first appearance in Parliament 
he showed himself superior to all his contemporaries in com- 
mand of language. He could pour out a long succession of 
round and stately periods, without ever pausing for a word, 
without ever repeating a word, in a voice of silver clearness, 
and with a pronunciation so articulate that not a letter was 
slurred over." 

These men, father and son, were never excelled in debate. 
They were always ready. Every advantage that the occa- 
sion allowed was taken at the time, and the favorable mo- 
ment never went by while they were preparing. They each 
attained a power they never would have possessed had it 
been necessary for them to use manuscript or depend on 
their memory. The time others have wasted in writing spe- 
cial orations, they employed in such wide culture, and in 
accumulating such vast stores of knowledge, that they were 
always ready. They were able to come to great intellectual 
contests with their minds fresh and unfagged by previous 
composition. 

But it may be said that with all their power they were 
destitute of polish and beauty. In such fragments of their 
speeches as have been preserved, it is true that gracefulness 
is less conspicuous than force, and the opponent of unwritten 
speech may imagine that this is a necessary consequence of 
the manner in which they spoke. The advantage they gained 
was worth the cost, even if this lack of the finer and more 
elegant qualities of speech was inevitable. But that this 
does not necessarily result from extempore speech, is 
abundantly proved by the example of their great rival — 



13* 



150 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 



EDMUND BURKE. 



This prince of imaginative orators was an Irishman. He 
was born in 1730, and graduated in Dublin University at 
the age of twenty. For a short time afterward he studied 
law, but soon grew weary of it and turned his attention to 
philosophy and literature. The productions of his pen 
speedily won an enviable reputation. A " Vindication of 
Natural Society " was speedily followed by the celebrated 
" Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful." 

His appearance in Parliament, the great arena of British 
eloquence, was comparatively late in life, but as soon as 
elected he gave promise of the great brilliancy he afterward 
displayed. For more than thirty years he had no superior 
in that august body, and scarcely an equal. He stood side 
by side with Pitt in defence of America, and endeared him- 
self to every lover of liberty in both hemispheres. The 
great impeachment of Warren Hastings was mainly brought 
about by his influence, and afforded room for all his powers. 
The war with France was the last great theme upon which 
his eloquence was employed, and in it his strongly conserva- 
tive views alienated him from most of his former friends. 

During all this time his eloquence was a wonder both to 
friend and foe, and in its own style was never equalled in 
the House of Commons, or in the world. His speech on the 
impeaching of Warren Hastings, made at the bar of the 
House of Lords, was an unparalleled effort. It extended over 
a period of four days, and bore everything before it. On the 
third day of this great speech, he described the cruelties 
inflicted on some of the natives of India by one of Hastings's 
agents, with such vividness that one convulsive shudder ran 
through the whole assemblage, while the speaker was so 
much affected by the picture he had penciled, that he drop- 
ped his head upon his hands, and was for some moments un- 
able to proceed. Some, who were present, fell into a swoon, 
while even Hastings himself, who disclaimed all responsi- 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 151 

bility for these things, was overwhelmed. In speaking of 
the matter afterwards he says : " For half an hour I looked 
upon the orator in a revery of wonder, and actually felt my- 
self to be the most culpable man on earth." Lord Thurlow, 
who was present, declares that long after, many who were 
present had not recovered from the shock, and probably 
never would. 

Soon after, the great speech of Sheridan was delivered. 
Like Burke's, it was extempore, and no report of it, worthy 
the name, remains. It was only inferior to the mighty effort 
that preceded it. A clergyman who came to the house 
strongly prepossessed in favor of Hastings, said at the close 
of the first hour, to a friend who sat by him, " This is mere 
declamation without proof." When another hour had passed, 
he remarked, " This is a wonderful oration." Another hour 
went by, and again he spoke : "Warren Hastings certainly 
acted unjustifiably." At the end of the fourth hour he said : 
" Hastings is an atrocious criminal." When the speech 
closed at the end of the fifth hour, he vehemently declared, 
" Of all monsters of iniquity, Warren Hastings is certainly 
the most enormous." 

For seven long years this unprecedented trial went on. 
More than one-third of those who sat on the judge's bench 
when it began were in their graves. When, at last it drew 
to a close, Burke made to the Lords a closing charge worthy 
of his genius : 

" My Lords," said he, " I have done ! The part of the 
Commons is concluded ! With a trembling hand we con- 
sign the product of these long, long labors to your charge. 
Take it ! Take it ! It is a sacred trust ! Never before was 
a cause of such magnitude submitted to any human tribunal. 
. . . My Lords, it has pleased Providence to place us in 
such a stage that we appear every moment to be on the 
verge of some great mutation. There is one thing, and one 
thing only that defies mutation — that which existed before 
the world itself. I mean justice; that justice which, ema- 
nating from the Divinity, has a place in the breast of every 
one of us, given us for our guide with regard to ourselves 



152 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

and with regard to others ; and which will stand after this 
globe is burned to ashes, our advocate or our accuser before 
our great Judge, when He comes to call upon us for the 
tenor of a well spent life." 

The effect of this speech upon the auditory was such that 
it was only after some time had elapsed, and after repeated 
efforts, that Fox, himself a giant in eloquence, could obtain 
a hearing. 

The character of Burke's eloquence is well summed up in 
the following account, given by Wraxall, one of his contem- 
poraries : 

"Nature had bestowed on him a boundless imagination, 
aided by a memory of equal strength and tenacity. His 
fancy was so vivid that it seemed to light up by its own 
powers, and to burn without consuming the aliment on which 
it fed : sometimes bearing him away into ideal scenes crea- 
ted by his own exuberant mind, but from which he, sooner 
or later, returned to the subject of debate ; descending from 
his most aerial nights, by a gentle and imperceptible grada- 
tion, till he again touched the ground. Learning waited on 
him like a handmaid, presenting to his choice all that anti- 
quity has culled or invented, most elucidatory of the topic 
under discussion. He always seemed to be oppressed under 
the load and variety of his intellectual treasures. Every 
power of oratory was wielded by him in its turn ; for he 
could be, during the same evening, often within the space of 
a few minutes, pathetic and humorous ; acrimonious and 
conciliating ; now giving loose to his indignation or severity ; 
and then, almost in the same breath, calling to his assist- 
ance wit and ridicule. It would be endless to cite instances 
of this versatility of his disposition, and of the rapidity of 
his transitions, 

' From grave to gay, from lively to severe, 1 

that I have, myself, witnessed. . . . What he was in 
public he was in private; like the star which now precedes 
and now follows the sun, he was equallv brilliant whether 
he 

* 4 Flamed in the forehead of the morning sky,' 

or led on with a milder luster the modest hosts of evening:." 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 153 

A Frenchman gives a graphic description of one of his 
speeches. At first he was disappointed in his appearance. 

" I certainly did not expect to find him in the British Par- 
liament dressed in the ancient toga ; nor was I prepared to see 
him in a tight brown coat, which seemed to impede every 
movement, and above all, the little hat-wig with curls. . . 
He moved into the middle of the house contrary to the usual 
practice, for the members speak standing and uncovered, not 
leaving their places. But Mr. Burke, with the most natural 
air imaginable, with seeming humility, and with folded arms, 
began his speech in so low a tone of voice that I could 
scarcely hear him. Soon after, however, becoming animated 
by degrees, he described religion attacked, the bonds of 
subordination broken, civil society threatened to its founda- 
tion. . . When in the course of this grand sketch, (to 
show that England could depend only on herself,) he men- 
tioned Spain, that immense monarchy, which appeared to 
have fallen into a total lethargy : * What can we expect,' 
said he, * from her ? — mighty indeed, but unwieldy — vast in 
bulk, but inert in spirit — a whale stranded upon the sea shore 
of Europe.'* The whole House was silent ; every mind was 
fixed ; . . . never was the electric power of eloquence 
more imperiously felt. I have witnessed many, too many 
political assemblages and striking scenes where eloquence 
performed a noble part, but the whole of them appear insipid 
when compared with this amazing effort." 

Burke was an extemporaneous speaker in the sense we 
have used the word in the preceding pages. He thought 
over the ideas of his speech as fully as his time permitted, 
and when he spoke, threw them into the language of the 
moment. At the conclusion of one of his speeches on the 
American question, his friends crowded around and urged him 
to write what he had said for the benefit of the world. He did 
so then, and also on five other occasions. Of the hundreds 
of other speeches he delivered only broken and imperfect 
fragments remain. 

Burke exerted himself in conversation, and thus im- 
proved his powers of language in the method we have 
recommended. Dr. Johnston says of him in his oracular 
way : 



154 EXTEMPORE SPEAKIXG. 

"Burke is an extraordinary man. His stream of talk 
is perpetual ; and he does not talk from any desire of dis • 
tinction, but because his mind is full. He is the only man 
whose common conversation corresponds with the general 
fame he has in the world. Take him up where you please, 
he is ready to meet you. No man of sense could meet him 
by accident under a gateway to avoid a shower without 
being convinced that he was the first man in England." 



MXRABEAU. 

The career of Mirabeau more resembles a strange romance 
than a sober history. He was of a good family, but during 
his childhood and early manhood his father treated him like 
a brute. His very appearance was peculiar. His head was 
of enormous size, his body so much misshapen that his father, 
who persecuted him for his deformity, declared that he 
looked more like a monster than a human being. The whole 
of his early life presents a picture of dreariness and misery 
exceeding that of almost any other man who has risen to 
greatness. Several times he was imprisoned — once for three 
years and a half — by order of his unnatural parent. Finally 
he began to use his pen, and soon won general admiration. 
His father, having failed to crush him, now became recon- 
ciled, and allowed him to assume the family name, which he 
had not permitted before. By this time he had a wide 
experience of vice, and was deeply in debt. His struggles 
for several years were still severe. 

But at length the great revolution came, and he found his 
true element. The powers of speech which had already been 
displayed to a limited extent, were now exercised in a noble 
field. The people soon recognized in him the qualities ne- 
cessary for a leader, and elected him to the General Assem- 
bly of France. Here he was feared and respected by all. 
He had no party to support him, but worked alone, and 
often by the mere force of his genius bent the Assembly to 
his will. During his whole career there, he was not an ex- 
tremist, and for a time before his death was engaged in 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 155 

upholding the crown and the cause of constitutional govern- 
ment against the party of anarchy and death. This lost him 
his unbounded popularity with the fickle populace of Paris, 
and they began to shout for his blood. He was charged in 
the Assembly with corruption, and treason to the cause of 
liberty. This only prepared the way for his triumph. The 
very tree was marked on which he was to be hung. But he 
did not quail before the storm. When he reached the hall, 
he found himself in the midst of determined enemies already 
drunk with blood, and with no friend who dared to speak on 
his behalf. But the mere force of eloquence prevailed. He 
spoke in words of such power that the noisy multitude was 
stilled, and the tide turned. 

After this triumph he took part in every measure, and 
was really the guiding power of the state. The king leaned 
on him as the only stay of his reign, and the moderate of 
every party began to look to him as the hope of France. 
Sometimes he spoke five times in one day, and at the sound 
of his magical voice the anarchical Assembly was hushed into 
reverence and submission. But his exertions were beyond 
his strength. At last he was prostrated. Every hour the 
king sent to enquire of his health, and bulletins of his state 
were posted in the streets. It seemed as if the destiny of 
France was to be decided in his sick chamber. He died, and 
the whole nation mourned, as well it might, for no other 
hand than his could hold back the reign of terror. It is 
indeed a problem whether that terrible tragedy would not 
have been prevented, if he had but lived a few months longer. 

Some of the speeches of this remarkable man were recited, 
but in these he never attained his full power. A French 
writer well describes him : 

" Mirabeau in the tribune was the most imposing of ora- 
tors, an orator so consummate, that it is harder to say what 
he wanted that what he possessed." 

Mirabeau had a massive and square obesity of figure, 
thick lips, a forehead broad, bony, prominent ; arched eye- 
brows, an eagle eye, cheeks fiat, and bomewhat fleshy, fca. 



156 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

tures full of pock holes and blotches, a voice of thunder, an 
enormous mass of hair, and the face of a lion. 

His manner as an orator is that of the great masters of 
antiquity, with an admirable energy of gesture, and a vehe- 
mence of diction which perhaps they had never reached. 

Mirabeau in his premeditated discourses was admirable. 
But what was he not in his extemporaneous effusions ? His 
natural vehemence, of which he repressed the nights in his 
prepared speeches, broke down all barriers in his improvisa- 
tions. A sort of nervous irritability gave then to his whole 
frame an almost preternatural animation and life. His breast 
dilated with an impetuous breathing. His lion face became 
wrinkled and contorted. His eves shot forth flame. He 
roared, he stamped, he shook the fierce mass of his hair, all 
whitened with foam ; he trod the tribune with the supreme 
authority of a master, and the imperial air of a king. What 
an interesting spectacle to behold him, momently, erect and 
exalt himself under the pressure of obstacle ! To see him 
display the pride of his commanding brow ! To see him, 
like the ancient orator, when, with all the power of his un- 
chained eloquence, he was wont to sway, to and fro in the 
Forum, the agitated waves of the Roman multitude. Then 
would he throw by the measured notes of his declamation, 
habitually grave and solemn. Then would escape him broken 
exclamations, tones of thunder, and accents of heartrending 
and terrible pathos. He concealed with the flash and color 
of his rhetoric, the sinewy arguments of his dialectics. He 
transported the Assembly, because himself transported. 
And yet — so extraordinary was his force — he abandoned 
himself to the torrent of his eloquence, without wandering 
from his course ; he mastered others by its sovereign sway, 
without losing for an instant his own self-control. 

PATRICK HENRY. 

The fame of this great man cannot soon be surpassed. 
He not only produced a great impression at the time he 
spoke, but had an agency, by his eloquent words, in bring- 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 157 

ing about the most important changes. He was more than 
the mouthpiece of the American Revolution. He not merely 
interpreted the feelings of the mass of the nation to itself, 
but in a large degree originated the enthusiasm that led 
them through war to independence. It is certain that the 
aristocratic and powerful colony of Virginia would have 
occupied a far different place in the struggle for liberty, if it 
had been deprived of his almost irresistible influence. It is 
hard to speculate on what might have been the result if 
temporizing measures had carried the day, and the union of 
the colonies been interfered with by want of cordial sym- 
pathy. The political wisdom of Franklin, and the military 
skill and constancy of Washington, did not contribute more 
to final success than the bold councils and fervent utterances 
of the country lawyer who is the subject of our sketch. 

Patrick Henry was born in Hanover county, Virginia, in 
May, 1736. In childhood he acquired the common elements 
of education, and some knowledge of Latin and mathema- 
tics, and was not the ignorant youth that some of his admi- 
rers delight in representing him. But he was exceedingly- 
fond of hunting and fishing, and would often spend the 
hours in this way, that might have been devoted to more 
useful employment. But he became a great day dreamer, 
thus at once revealing and exercising the unbounded imagi- 
nation he possessed. He loved to wander alone, that he 
might give full play to the visions and reveries that floated 
through his brain. 

When about fourteen, he heard the celebrated Presbyte- 
rian minister, Samuel Davies. His eloquence was the most 
powerful that Henry had hitherto enjoyed, and awakened in 
him a spirit of emulation. All his life Henry delighted to 
do him honor, and attributed the bent of his own mind to 
oratory and a large measure of his success to this man. 

In business, the future statesman was uniformly most unsuc- 
cessful. He twice failed as a storekeeper, and once as a farmer. 
But all this time he was really studying for his future pro- 
fession. He was fond of talk, and by indulging in it freely 



158 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING 

doubtless improved his power of language. He would re- 
late long stories, and do it so well that those who thronged 
his counter took as little note of time as he did, and yielded 
their hearts as fully to him as larger audiences did after- 
ward. 

As a last resort he studied law, but for a time his success 
was no better in this than in his previous occupations. But 
after two or three years, during which he lived without 
practice, and in a dependent condition, he was retained in 
what seemed merely a nominal capacity — as defendant in 
the noted " Parsons case." The preachers of the established 
church were paid so many pounds of tobacco per annum. 
But when the price arose, in a time of scarcity, the Legisla- 
ture passed an act allowing all persons to pay their assess- 
ment in money at the rate of 2d per pound, which was much 
less than it was worth at that time. After an interval this 
law was declared void by the king and his council. Then 
the clergy instituted suit to recover what they had lost du- 
ring the time the act was enforced. There was no doubt of 
the legality of their claim, although more of its intrinsic 
rightfulness, and the law question was decided in a test case, 
almost without controversy. This really surrendered the 
whole matter, and the only issue then was as to the amount 
of damage they had sustained — a very plain question, appa- 
rently affording no room for argument by the defense. 

A vast array of the clergy were present, and on the bench 
was Henry's own father. No circumstances could be im- 
agined more unfavorable for the maiden speech of a young 
lawyer. The case for the plaintiff was clearly and forcibly 
stated by a leading member of the bar, and Henry began his 
reply. It is no wonder that he faltered, and that his sen- 
tences were awkward and confused. The people, who were 
present in great numbers, and who were intensely hostile to 
the preachers, hung their heads, and gave up the contest. 
The father of the speaker was shame-faced and dismayed. 
The preachers smiled in derision, and exchanged congratu- 
latory glances. But it was too soon. The power of elo- 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 159 

quence began to assert itself. The strong mind of Henry 
mastered all embarrassment, and was brought to bear, with 
irresistible force, upon his subject, and upon those around. 
All eyes were drawn to the almost unknown speaker. His 
rusticity of manner had disappeared; his form became erect, 
and his piercing eyes shot forth lightning. " A mysterious 
and almost supernatural transformation of appearance" 
passed over him. Every pulse beat responsive to his, and 
throbbed with his own mighty indignation. He turned his 
withering invective upon the clergy, speaking of their greedi- 
ness, oppression, and meanness, until they fled from the 
court. Spectators say that their blood ran cold and their 
hair stood on end ! When he concluded, the jury in an in- 
stant brought judgment for one penny damages ! a new trial 
was refused, and the young but unparalleled orator was borne 
away in triumph by the shouting multitude. 

His first appearance in the house of Burgesses was not 
less brilliant, and far more important in its results. The 
majority of the Assembly seemed to be bent on new petitions 
and remonstrances against the oppression of England, when 
Henry introduced his celebrated resolutions, declaring in 
plain phrases that the acts complained of were unconstitu- 
tional and void. This, which was little short of a declara- 
tion of war, was received, even by well-meaning patriots, 
with a storm of opposition. A most bitter debate followed. 
Henry at first stood almost alone, with the wealth and talent 
of the Assembly arrayed against him. But his clear con- 
viction, determined will, and powerful eloquence turned the 
scale, and the resolutions passed, committing Virginia to the 
cause of resistance. 

When Henry attended the first Congress he found an 
array of men, whose fame was already becoming world-wide. 
But he soon won his way to the very highest rank among 
them, and maintained it to the close. His extraordinary 
eloquence excited the same astonishment on this broader 
field, as in seclusion of the Virginia hills. It was " Shakes- 
peare and Garrick combined." When he took his seat after 



160 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

his opening speech, the first speech that had broken the 
silence of the great assembly, there was no longer a doubt 
that he was the greatest orator in America, and probably in 
the world. This pre-eminence he maintained all through the 
exciting struggle. His voice was ever like an inspiration, 
and the people looked up to him almost as a prophet. 

His vast power remained until the close of his life. The 
last great speech, made in a contest with John Randolph, 
when he was nearly seventy years of age, and only three 
months before his death, was equal to any of his former 
efforts. "The sun had set in all its glory." 

These few sketches will sufficiently illustrate the eloquence 
of this wonderful man. It only remains to state what is 
known in regard to his methods of preparation. He never 
wrote. His mightiest efforts were made in situations where 
the use of the pen would have been impossible. The Vir- 
ginia resolutions were written on a blank leaf in a law book, 
and during the whole of the terrible debate which followed, 
he w as ever ready, and mastered all opponents. He thought 
much, but wrote little. He spoke only on great occasions, 
while in political life, but gave attention to all that was 
passing, and by keen observation learned the characters of 
those upon whose minds he wrought. Thus he was prepared 
to drive every word home to its mark. He was a great stu- 
dent of history, and this knowledge doubtless contributed 
very greatly to the clearness and precision of his views upon 
the great struggle in which the country was engaged, as 
well as gave him an ample fund of illustration in his speeches. 
Study of character and of history, cultivation of the power 
of narration and of language, seem to have been the means 
by which his wonderful natural genius was fitted for its 
triumphs. 

GEOBGE "WHITFIELD. 

Few men of any age have been instrumental in accom- 
plishing more good than the subject of our present sketch. 
Without deep logical powers, and with' little claim to origi- 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 161 

nality of thought, he chained vast multitudes by his elo- 
quence, and was one of the foremost actors in a mighty 
religious movement. 

None of the converts Whitfield gathered into the church 
ever passed through a more strongly marked experience in 
personal religion than he did. The agony of conviction he 
underwent was terrible, and he struggled long and despe- 
rately before he obtained peace. " God only knows," he 
exclaims, " how many nights I have lain upon my bed groan- 
ing under what I felt. Whole days and weeks have I spent 
in lying prostrate on the ground, in silent or vocal prayer." 
His mind almost failed under the violence of his mental con- 
flicts, and he endeavored, by wearing the meanest apparel, 
and almost continual fasting, and many works of self-morti- 
fication to find relief. But all this was in vain. We see in 
it an indication of the terrible earnestness and sincerity of 
the man — qualities which never passed away from him. 
These months of vivid emotion affected his whole life, and 
imparted an intensity to his pictures of sin, and a vividness 
to his realization of its horrors, that he never would have 
had otherwise. 

At last his health gave way beneath the pressure of his 
spiritual trials, and he fell into a long sickness. At the end 
of seven weeks he found peace, and his raptures became as 
great as the horrors of conscience had been. " But oh ! with 
what joy, joy unspeakable, even joy that was full of glory, 
was my soul filled, when the weight of sin went off, and an 
abiding sense of the love of God and a full assurance of 
faith broke in upon my disconsolate soul." This rapturous 
experience continued with few interruptions through life, 
and really formed the spring of his wonderful exertions. 
For thirty-four years his soul glowed in all the fervors that 
he had experienced at his first conversion, and he put forth 
his great strength in unwearied efforts to bring others to the 
same blessed enjoyment. 

His career opened with wonderful brilliancy. The first 
sermon preached after his ordination as deacon, was said to 



162 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

" have driven fifteen persons mad," — a kind of madness that 
soon became common in England. Everywhere the people 
flocked to hear him in crowds, and soon no church would 
contain t}ie multitude, even when they were opened for him. 
Once, when preaching with " great freedom of heart and 
clearness of voice," with thousands of persons standing out- 
side of the church, after hundreds had gone away for want 
of room, he was struck with the thought of preaching the 
word in the open air. Friends discouraged, but the die was 
soon cast, and from that time forward his mightiest triumphs 
were won in imitation of his Master, " who had a mountain 
for His pulpit, and the heavens for a sounding board ! " This 
was the proper theater for the display of his wonderful 
power, and his spirit felt the beauty and grandeur of the 
scene. Sometimes as many as twenty thousand people were 
gathered together. 

The theater of his most marvelous triumphs was at Moor- 
fields during the Whitsun holidays. The lowest class of 
London population was then poured forth, and the most 
riotous scenes enacted. He resolved to begin early, in order 
to secure the field before the greatest rush of the crowd. 
Ten thousand people were gathered impatiently waiting for 
the sports of the day. " He had for once got the start of 
the devil," and soon drew the multitude around him. At 
noon he tried again. The odds against him were greater. 
Between twenty and thirty thousand people were present, 
and shows, exhibitors, and players were all busy. He shouted 
his text, " Great is Diana of the Ephesians," and began the 
battle. It was waged fiercely, and stones, dirt, and rotten 
eggs, with every other means of annoyance, were brought to 
bear on the steadfast preacher. " My soul," he says, " was 
among lions." But soon his wonderful power transformed 
the multitude into lambs. 

At night he renewed the assault on the stronghold of the 
adversary. Thousands had been added to the throng, and 
their leaders, who had lost much of their day's gain by his 
preaching, were determined to endure it no longer. A har- 






EMINENT SPEAKERS. 163 

lequin attempted to strike him with a whip but failed. A 
recruiting sergeant, with many followers, and with drum 
and fife, made the next effort. But Whitfield called to the 
people to make way for the king's officer, and the people 
yielded before, and closed up behind him, until he was in 
this manner conducted harmlessly out of the crowd. Next, 
a large number combined together, and taking hold of a 
long pole charged furiously on the assembly, roaring like 
beasts. But they too were foiled, and threw down the pole, 
many of them joining the hearers. At times the tumult rose 
like the noise of many waters, drowning the voice of the 
preacher, who would then resort to singing, until silence re- 
turned. He kept the field to the last, and gathered mighty 
spoil into his Tabernacle that night. 

Very different were the sermons he preached at the man- 
sion of Lady Huntingdon, but they were marked by the same 
power. Courtiers and noblemen joined in praising him, and 
Hume declared that he would go twenty miles to hear him. 
No one seemed to be impervious to his wonderful eloquence, 
and even in this selected circle he gathered trophies of the 
Cross. 

He passed and repassed from England to America several 
times, and was everywhere as a flame of fire. The languid 
zeal of lukewarm churches was revived, and the careless and 
immoral led into new lives. He was soon looked up to as an 
apostle by thousands who dated their first religious impres- 
sions from the time when they listened to his fervid words. 
But opposition was not wanting, and once he very nearly 
received the crown of martyrdom. 

After he had finished preaching in Dublin, he was attacked 
by an immense mob of infuriated Papists. His friends fled 
for their lives, and left him to the mercy of the rioters. Stones 
from every direction struck him, until he was breathless and 
dripping with blood. He found a momentary refuge, when 
almost at the point of death, but the inmates of the house 
which he had entered, fearing it would be demolished, en- 
treated him to leave. He was offered a disguise, but refused 



164 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

it, and in his proper dress passed through whole streets of 
threatening Papists, and as soon as he had reached a place of 
safety, and had his wounds dressed, began to preach again ! 

Thus year after year passed, crowded full of labors. He 
considered it an indication of great feebleness that for a short 
time he could only preach one sermon a day. Thousands in 
Europe and America called him blessed, and everywhere 
countless multitudes crowded to hear him speak of the grace 
of God. For the lifetime of an ordinary generation his un- 
equaled power and untiring labor continued. After speaking 
he frequently vomited great quantities of blood, which he 
regarded as relieving his over-taxed lungs. 

His death was romantic and beautiful, as befitted such a 
life. There are few more touching, and yet more happy in 
the records of biography. 

He preached his last field sermon at Exeter. It was con- 
tinued for two hours, and was among his most powerful 
efforts. He reached Newbury port, Mass., the same evening, 
where he intended to preach the next day. "While at supper, 
the pavement, and the hall of the house where he sat, were 
crowded with people impatient to hear the wonderful orator. 
But he was exhausted, and said to one of the clergymen who 
accompanied him, " Brother, you must speak to these dear 
people ; I cannot say a word." He took a candle and started 
for his room, but before he reached it, his generous heart 
reproached him for even seeming to desert the people who 
were hungering for the bread of life. He paused on the 
stairway, while the piece of candle he had taken when he 
started cast its flickering light on the crowd below, and 
began to speak. The people gazed with tearful awe and 
affection on his venerable form. His musical and pathetic 
voice flowed on in words of tenderness and exhortation until 
the candle went out in its socket. Before the morning he 
was dead ! 

His remembrance did not die with him. Europe and 
America vied together in mourning for him, and Methodists, 
Churchmen, and Dissenters revered him as a departed prophet. 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 165 

What was the secret of his unparalleled power with the 
people? Clearly its spring was his own profound and over- 
whelming emotions. It is sometimes thought that his almost 
perfect elocution explains the fascination he exerted, but it 
does not. He is classed by many as one who committed and 
recited his discourses. But it may be safely assumed that 
he could not have commanded one tithe of his success in that 
manner. He may have done this at the beginning of his 
career, before his marvelous genius was fully developed, but 
not after. It is indeed given as a reason of his embarrass- 
ment when he began to preach in the open air, that he had 
not long been accustomed to preach extempore. He says 
that often, in his own apprehension, he had not a word to say 
either to God or man. Think of a person who has a fully 
committed sermon, making such an assertion, and afterwards 
thanking God for giving him words and wisdom ! 

The very best possible evidence that his sermons took their 
external form at the moment, was that he complained of the 
reports that were made of them. If they had been written be- 
fore preaching, he would have had the means of making these 
as perfect as desired. Yet he repeated sermons on particular 
subjects very often. Foote and Garrick estimated that they 
improved up to the thirtieth and fortieth repetition. Going 
over the same ground so often, many striking phrases would 
doubtless fix themselves in his mind, but he would still be 
free to introduce new matters as he wished. His illustrations, 
too, many of which were gathered from his own wide experi- 
ence, would be given in nearly the same manner on successive 
occasions. But he was a fine talker, and by his unlimited 
practice in speech improved the power of language to such 
an extent that it was fully capable of expressing the ocean 
of feeling that flowed in his soul. His published sermons 
show few traces of the pen, but bear every mark of impas- 
sioned utterance. Untroubled by doubt, all that he preached 
was felt to be present reality. He was a pure and holy man, 
moved by the Spirit to the work he entered on, and endowed 
with a heart of fire, a soul of love, and a power of expression 



166 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

such as is given to few mortals. No wonder that the multi- 
tude felt him to be little less than inspired. 
\ 

JOHN WESLEY. 

Both Henry and Whitefield were men of such vast genius 
as to be lifted above ordinary rules. When we look upon 
them we feel imitation to be almost hopeless. But we will 
give an instance of an altogether different kind, and thus 
show how easily unwritten speech may be the medium of 
every species of address. John Wesley was not an impas- 
sioned or impetuous orator, and yet he wielded an almost 
boundless influence. He was fluent and easy in his language, 
but exact and logical, leaving no careless word on which an 
enemy might seize. Yet his power was great, and even the 
scenes of excitement that marked the preaching of Whitefield, 
and other early Methodists, were even surpassed under his 
clear calm words. 

We have no intention of sketching the life and great 
achievements of Wesley, but will only consider a few events 
that bear on bis character as a preacher. Before he found 
peace in believing, which he did not until he had preached 
for years, his sermons were not characterized by any extra- 
ordinary power. They were strong, clear, fluent, and no 
more. But after his return from his final voyage to America, 
there was a great change. The external characteristics re- 
mained nearly the same, but the fervor and power of the 
spirit that breathed through his mildest words, soon produced 
the opposite effects of exciting bitter enmity and of drawing 
the hearts of the people toward him. It mattered not what 
the nature of his congregations might be, there was some- 
thing in his manner and words adapted to all. He began 
field preaching about the same time that Whitefield did, and 
sometimes gathered as many as twenty thousand into one 
congregation. While he spoke the whole assembly was 
often bathed in tears, and frequently many fell down as 
dead. He gathered those who were convinced by his preach- 
ing into societies, and these soon spread over the whole coun- 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 167 

try. He was thus required to exercise more authority in 
caring for them than any bishop of the Established Church. 
For upwards of fifty years he averaged fifteen sermons a 
week. 

Although Wesley was the founder of Methodism, yet he 
differed widely from the typical Methodist preachers. He 
dressed neatly, was most courteous and polished in manners, 
graceful in the pulpit, and considered violent exertions of 
the voice or furious gesticulation to be little less than sin. 
His published sermons are models of thoughtful analysis, 
close reasoning, and orderly arrangement. Yet he always 
spoke without manuscript and without memorizing. 

Wesley would certainly have been justified, if any person 
ever was, in reading his discourses. For he was surrounded 
by those who had been led into the way of life by him, and 
who treasured up every word that fell from his lips, while 
on the other hand, unscrupulous enemies misrepresented him 
continually, and sought for occasion to accuse him of teaching 
pernicious doctrine. Yet amid such ceaseless preaching, he 
was always able to command the very words to express his 
ideas, and was never compelled to retract an unguarded 
sentence. The volumes of sermons which he published are 
to be regarded as mere abstracts of his teaching, recorded 
for the benefit of his societies, and not as the very words he 
used upon particular occasions. In his later years he came 
before the people, as a father instructing his children, and 
imparted to them the weighty truths he thought they ought 
to know, in all simplicity, and without the slightest care for 
outward ornament or word-nicety. 

SIDNEY SMITH. 

This eccentric, whole-souled, humorous, and eloquent cler- 
gyman was born in 1771, and died in 1835. He graduated 
at Oxford, received a fellowship, worth five hundred dollars 
a year, and thought to study law, but at the instance of his 
father, changed his mind and entered the Church. In con- 



168 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

nection with three others he started the Edinburgh Revieio, 
and for years contributed sparkling articles that did much 
to establish its reputation and popularity. He also became 
known to a wide circle for his brilliant conversational powers, 
and, like so many extempore speakers, took great delight 
in this most pleasant means of improvement. 

At first his preferment in the Church was slow, but his 
favor with the people was undoubtful. While he preached in 
London large and fashionable audiences were drawn wher- 
ever he officiated. 

Finally he was presented with an obscure country living, 
and after some delay went to it. It was a desolate place, 
far away from all the centers of intellectual life, and pre- 
vious incumbents had resided away from it for more than a 
century. He says, " When I began to thump the cushion of 
my pulpit, on first coming to Foston, as is my wont when I 
preach, the accumulated dust of one hundred and fifty years, 
made such a cloud that for some minutes I lost sight of my 
congregation." 

He soon made a change for the better in all the affairs of 
the parish ; built an ugly but comfortable parsonage, and 
won the devoted affection of his people. He passed much 
of his time in literary avocations, and after fourteen years, 
received preferment to more desirable churches. During the 
remainder of his life he used his pen so as to greatly increase 
his already wide reputation, and became still more noted as 
a preacher. He was very witty, and cared little for the 
common rules of sermonizing, but had a power and earnest- 
ness that compensated for every defect. The following ex- 
tract will indicate his method of preparation : 

"Pulpit discourses have insensibly dwindled from speaking 
to reading ; a practice which of itself is sufficient to stifle 
every germ of eloquence. It is only by the fresh feelings of 
the "heart that mankind can be very powerfully affected. 
What can be more ludicrous than an orator delivering stale 
indignation and fervor a week old ; turning over whole pages 
of violent passions, written out in goodly text; reading the 
tropes and apostrophes into which he is hurried by the ardor 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 160 

of his mind; and so affected at a preconcerted line and page 
that he is unable to proceed any further I" 



F. W. ROBERTSON. 

No minister of the present generation has lived a purer 
life, or left the stamp of his thought more deeply on the public 
mind than the young incumbent of Trinity Chapel in Brigh- 
ton. His sermons, not published until after his death, are 
meeting with an unparalleled sale, and every scrap of his 
sermon preparation, no matter how fragmentary, is seized 
for the press with the greatest avidity. He now addresses 
a far larger and more important audience than ever during 
his life time. 

F. W. Robertson was born in 1816 and died in 1853 — only 
thirty-seven years of age. He received the traditional Eng- 
lish education at Oxford, and had a strong inclination for the 
military profession. This he was induced to renounce by 
the expressed judgment of his father — himself a military 
officer — that Frederick w r as better fitted for the Church. 
After he had received ordination, he acted as curate for 
twelve months at Winchester. His health being by this 
time broken, he took a trip to the continent under the advice 
of a physician. He was gone a year, and during this time 
entered into marriage. When he returned he served for four 
years in the parish of Cheltenham. Here the field for the 
exercise of his talents was comparatively narrow ; but many 
persons were led to a higher life by his ministry — many more 
than he, with his habitual self-depreciation, w T as willing to 
believe until years had passed. After this he spent two 
months at St. Ebbs, in Oxford, receiving a miserably small 
salary. During this short time his talents became known, 
and he was offered the rich, aristocratic, and intellectual 
church at Brighton. The offer was refused at first, and was 
only accepted at last through the urgent solicitation of the 
Bishop, who felt that this was his proper field. Here his 
popularity became unbounded. The w r orkiug people, who 
8 



170 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

had almost deserted the Establishment, flocked to hear his 
bold, true words. His biographer says : 

" His eloquence and originality could not fail to be marked. 
And if the congregation was intellectual he was pre-emi- 
nently so. The chapel became crowded. Sittings were 
scarcely ever to be had. For six years the enthusiasm never 
slackened; iff grew and spread silently and steadily, and 
when he died broke out in a burst of universal sorrow. . . . 
But he put no faith in mere excitement, the eager upturned 
face, the still hush of attention. ' What is ministerial success V 
he asks. ' Crowded churches — full aisles — attentive congrega- 
tion — the approval of the religious world — much impression 
produced ? Elijah thought so ; and when he found out his 
mistake, and discovered that the applause of Carmel sub- 
sided into hideous stillness, his heart well nigh broke with 
disappointment Ministerial success lies in altered lives, and 
obedient humble hearts; unseen work recognized in the 
judgment day.' " 

That success was his. James Anderson says : 

"I cannot count up conquests in any place or by any 
man so numerous and so vast — conquests achieved in so short 
a period, and in many instances over the hearts and con- 
sciences of those whom, from their age or pursuits, it is al- 
ways most difficult to reach — as were the conquests of that 
devoted soldier of the cross of Christ." 

But his labors were too great for his strength. For at 
least two years before his death he preached in continual 
pain, and yet there was no abatement in his power. Many 
of the sermons by which he is best known were then pro- 
duced. We can scarcely realize as we read his calm sen- 
tences, radiant with beauty, and full of profound thought, 
that they were spoken during the ravages of a cerebral dis- 
ease, that was soon to still his eloquent voice forever. When 
he died, having preached almost to the last, the city (con- 
taining sixty thousand inhabitants) was draped in gloom, 
and mourning was universal. A monument was erected, to 
which the working-men contributed a touching memorial. 

The manner in which so many of Robertson's sermons 
were preserved, is, when we consider his manner of preaching, 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 171 

very remarkable. He spoke extempore, and never wrote out 
a sermon before delivery. His leading thoughts were indi- 
cated by short notes, and the whole subject was carefully 
arranged *in his own mind. But his words and his most 
powerful illustrations sprang from the inspiration of the mo- 
ment. Usually he took a small piece of paper containing the 
headings of his thoughts with him into the pulpit, but never 
referred to it after the first few moments had passed. His 
sympathizing biographer thus describes him : 

" So entirely was his heart in his work, that in public 
speaking especially, he lost sight of everything but his sub- 
ject. His self-consciousness vanished. He did not choose 
his words or think about his thoughts. He not only pos- 
sessed, but was possessed by his idea ; and when all was 
over and the reaction came, he had forgotten like a dream, 
words, illustrations, almost everything. . . . After some 
of his most earnest and passionate utterances, he has said to 
a friend : 'Have I made a fool of myself?' 

" If the most conquering eloquence for the English people 
be that of the man who is all but mastered by his excitement, 
but who, at the very point of being mastered, masters him- 
self — apparently cool, while he is at white heat — so as to 
make the audience glow with lire, and at the same time re- 
spect the self-possessed power of the orator — the man being 
always felt as greater than the man's feelings — if that be the 
eloquence that most tells upon the English nation, he had 
that eloquence. He spoke under tremendous excitement, 
but it was excitement reined in by will. He held in his hand 
a small piece of paper with a few notes on it when he began. 
He referred to it now and then ; but before ten minutes had 
gone by it was crushed to uselessness in his grasp; for he 
knit his fingers together over it, as he knit his words over 
thought. His gesture was subdued ; sometimes a slow mo- 
tion of his hand upward ; sometimes bending forward, his 
hand drooping over the pulpit ; sometimes erecting himself 
to his full height with a sudden motion, as if upraised by the 
power of the thought he spoke. His voice — a musical, low, 
penetrative voice — seldom rose ; and when it did it was in a 
deep volume of sound which was not loud, but toned like a 
great bell. It thrilled also, but that was not so much from 
feeling as from the repression of feeling. Toward the close 
of his ministry he was wont to stand almost motionlessly 



172 EXTEMPORE SPBAKING. 

erect in the pulpit, with his hands loosely lying by his side, 
or grasping his gown. His pale, thin face and tall, emaci- 
ated form, seeming, as he spoke, to be glowing as alabaster 
glows when lit up by an inward fire. And, indeed, brain 
and heart were on fire. He was being self-consumed. Every 
sermon in those latter days burned up a portion of his vital 
power." 

But though thus surrounded by an admiring congregation, 
and weekly giving out thoughts that were worthy of still 
wider notice, when some of his people, who realized that his 
words were too precious to die, raised a subscription to em- 
ploy a short-hand reporter, with a view to the publication of 
his sermons, he refused to sanction the scheme, and wrote 
the parties a characteristic letter, telling them that he had 
no time to correct, and, without it, the discourses were not 
fit to be given to the public. Yet a number were preserved 
in this way, and though not published until after his death, 
they are almost faultless in form and expression. Other ser- 
mons were written out briefly by himself, after being preached, 
for the use of some private friends. It was thus that those 
almost incomparable discourses were preserved, which are 
without doubt the most valuable contribution that has been 
made to their department of literature during the present 
century. 

We will give two extracts showing the power that may be 
wielded over language without the use of the pen. The first 
is from a speech made to a workingman's institute opposing 
the introduction of infidel works into their library. He is 
speaking of the compassion that should be shown to the 
honest doubter: 

" I do think that the way we treat that state is unpardon- 
ably cruel. It is an awful moment when the soul begins to 
find that the props on which it has blindly rested so long 
are many of them rotten, and begins to suspect them all ; 
when it begins to feel the nothingness of many of the tradi- 
tionary opinions which have been received with implicit con- 
fidence, and in that horrible insecurity begins also to doubt 
whether there be anything to believe at all. It is an awful 
hour — let him who has passed through it say how awful — 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 173 

when this life has lost its meaning, and seems shriveled into 
a span ; when the grave appears to be the end of all, human 
goodness nothing but a name, and the sky above this universe 
a dead expanse, black with the void from which God Himself 
has disappeared. ... I appeal (for the truth of the pic- 
ture drawn) to the recollection of any man who has passed 
through that hour of agony, and stood upon the rock at last, 
the surges stilled below him, and the last cloud drifted from 
the sky above, with a faith, and hope, and trust, no longer 
traditional, but of his own, a trust which neither earth nor 
hell shall shake thenceforth for ever." 

The second passage we will quote is an illustration from a 
sermon on the doubt of Thomas, showing how weak are all 
arguments for immortality, except those that are exclusively 
Christian. He speaks of many things that are valuable as 
suggestions, but worthless as proofs, and next shows how 
the same suggestions may point the other way: 

" Six thousand years of human existence have passed away. 
Countless armies of the dead have set sail from the shores 
of time. No traveler has returned from the still land be- 
yond. More than one hundred and fifty generations have 
done their work and sunk into the dust again, and still 
there is not a voice, there is not a whisper from the grave to 
tell us whether, indeed, those myriads are in existence 
still. Besides, why should they be ? Talk as you will of 
the grandeur of man ; why should it not be honor enough 
for him — more than enough to satisfy a thing so mean — to 
have had his twenty or seventy years life-rent of God's uni- 
verse ? Why must such a thing, apart from proof, rise up 
and claim to himself an exclusive immortality ? . . . . 
Why may he not sink, after he has played his appointed 
part, into nothingness again ? You see the leaves sinking 
one by one in autumn, till the heaps below are rich with the 
spoils of a whole year's vegetation. They were bright and 
perfect while they lasted, each leaf a miracle of beauty and 
contrivance. There is no resurrection for the leaves — why 
should there be one for man? Go and stand, some summer 
evening, by the river side; you will see the May-fly sporting 
out its little hour in the dense masses of insect life, darken- 
ing the air a few feet above the gentle swell of the water. 
The heat of that very afternoon brought them into existence. 
Every gauze wing is traversed by ten thousand fibres, which 



174 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

defy the microscope to find a flaw in their perfection. The 
omniscience and the care bestowed upon that exquisite anat- 
omy, one would think cannot be destined to be wasted in a 
moment. Yet so it is. When the sun has sunk below the 
trees its little life is done. Yesterday it was not ; to mor- 
row it will not be. God has bidden it be happy for one 
evening. It has no right or claim to a second ; and in the 
universe that marvelous life has appeared once and will ap- 
pear no more. May not the race of man sink like the gene- 
rations of the May-fly ? Why cannot the Creator, so lavish 
in His resources, afford to annihilate souls as He annihilates 
insects ? Would it not almost enhance His glory to believe 
it?" 

Such language Robertson was able to employ without the 
use of the pen. But the art was not attained without a long 
and laborious toil. He committed much — memorizing the 
whole Testament, both in English and Greek, and storing 
his mind with innumerable gems from the poets. He also 
studied the modern languages, particularly German, and de- 
lighted to translate their treasure into his own tongue. He 
read much, but not rapidly, dwelling upon a book until he 
could arrange the whole of its contents with precision in his 
mind. Thus he attained an almost unequalled mastery of 
both thought and language. If he had been required to write 
every sermon, he could never have pursued such a thorough 
and long continued course of cultivation, besides mastering 
such a vast amount of knowledge. 

We have dwelt less upon the general character of his 
preaching, with its strong originality, than upon the beauty, 
force, and accuracy of his language, because these are the 
qualities usually believed to be unattainable without written 
composition. But it is safe to say, that in these respects he 
has not been surpassed by any preacher ancient or modern. 

HENEY CLAY. 

We will take Henry Clay as an example of the American 
political eloquence of the last generation. He was one of a 
bright constellation of great men — most of them, like himself, 
extemporaneous speakers. In some respects he was, perhaps, 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 175 

superior to them all. His hold upon the public mind was 
great, and even yet he is regarded with love and reverence 
all over the Union. This, however, is not the result of his 
genius alone. In some points his great rivals were more un- 
fortunate than himself. Calhoun's influence was immense ; 
but the effect of his teaching has been so deadly that it is 
not to be wondered at if his fame is of an equivocal kind. 
The badness of Webster's private life, and his unfortunate 
course on some great questions, caused his reputation to 
decline, and his really great abilities to be undervalued. 
But the genial, lar^e-hearted orator of the West is still a 
favorite with the people. 

Clay was a Virginian by birth. His father was a Baptist 
preacher, very poor, who died when Henry was quite young, 
leaving a large family of children. Henry obtained all his 
schooling, which was meager enough, in a log school-house. 
The young boy was employed first as a clerk in a store, and 
afterward as an assistant in a lawyer's office. Next he be- 
came an amanuensis to Chancellor Wythe, who treated him 
kindly and gave him an opportunity to study law. Finally, 
he was admitted to the bar, and removed to Kentucky. He 
immediately acquired practice, and met with a hearty wel- 
come from the rough backwoodsmen of that section. He 
tells us how he acquired the ability to speak with fluency 
and power : 

" I owe my success in life to one simple fact, namely, that 
at an early age I commenced and continued for some years 
the practice of daily reading and speaking the contents of 
some historical or scientific book. These off-hand efforts 
were sometimes made in a corn-field ; at others in the forest ; 
and not unfrequently in some barn, with the horse and ox 
for my only auditors. It is to this early practice of the art 
of all arts that I am indebted for the primary and leading 
impulses that stimulated my progress and have shaped and 
molded my destiny." 

An amusing instance is given of Clay's first attempt at 
debate. He was so much embarrassed that he forgot where 
he was, and called the chairman " Gentlemen of the Jury." 



176 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

Yet when this difficulty had been overcome, he soon made a 
powerful impression. In fact it was spoken of by some as 
not inferior to any of the addresses in which he achieved a 
national fame. The policy of emancipation was then under 
debate in Kentucky, and young Clay gave it his full sup- 
port. But although he had almost unbounded influence on 
any other subject, the people of his State loved slavery better 
than any man, and the measure was defeated. 

The vast power of Clay as an orator was early displayed. 
When only twenty-two years of age he, with another very 
able speaker, addressed a popular meeting. While the other 
spoke there was great applause and deafening acclamations, 
but Clay's address was so much more thrilling and effective, 
that the popular feeling became too deep for utterance, and 
he closed amid unbroken silence. It was some moments be- 
fore the crowd recovered sufficiently to give vent, in thun- 
dering cheers, to the emotion that he had kindled. 

It is hardly necessary to follow the career of Clay through 
all the years that were devoted to the public service, for the 
country is still familiar with it. Many of the measures with 
which he was connected may not meet our approval^ but no 
one will question the honesty of his motives, or the ability 
with which they were advocated. In Congress he had 
scarcely a rival. Calhoun was equally active, and more 
logical, but had not the magic of voice and eye, the nameless 
graces of delivery that distinguished the Kentucky orator. 
Webster spoke more like a giant, but was hard to call out 
in his full force, and on ordinary occasions did not speak 
nearly as well as Clay. The voice of the latter was an in- 
strument of great power, and he well knew how to use it. 
"Nature," he said on one occasion, referring to an effort 
made years before, " had singularly favored me by giving me 
a voice peculiarly adapted to produce the effects I wished in 
public speaking. Now," he added, " its melody is changed, 
its sweetness gone." These words were pronounced as if in 
mockery, in tones of exquisite sweetness. One who had 
heard him often, says : 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 177 

"Mr. Clay's voice has prodigious power, compass, and 
richness ; all its variations are captivating, but some of its 
base tones thrill through one's whole frame. To those who 
have never heard the living melody, no verbal description 
can convey an adequate idea of the diversified effects of 
those intonations which, in one strain of sentiment, fall in 
whispering gentleness like the first words of love upon a 
maiden's lips, and anon in sterner utterances ring with the 
maddening music of the main." 

A gentleman who witnessed an oratorical encounter be- 
tween Clay and Webster describes it as inconceivably grand : 

"The eloquence of Mr. Webster was the majestic roar of 
a strong and steady blast pealing through the forest ; but 
that of Mr. Clay was the tone of a god-like instrument, some- 
times visited by an angel touch, and swept anon by all the 
fury of the raging elements." 

Clay, Webster and Calhoun were all extempore speakers. 
Webster sometimes prepared very elaborately, but never 
confined himself to his preparation. And some of his very 
best efforts were made on the spur of the moment when cir- 
cumstances conspired to arouse his vast but somewhat slug- 
gish genius. Both the others prepared their discourses in 
thought alone, and those who were obliged to rely on their 
manuscripts or their memories stood no chance at all with 
them in the fiery debates through which they passed. 

HENRY B. BASCOM. 

It may be doubted whether the late Bishop Bascom is 
properly classed among extempore preachers. His mode of 
preparation certainly bordered on the memoriter plan. But 
he did not write. He would first construct a skeleton, 
usually very simple, and then throw each point into words 
mentally. His memory was very great, and the fine expres- 
sions he coined, as he rode through the forest or meditated in 
his study, were impressed on his mind so strongly as to be 
recalled afterward. It was a common practice with him to 
repeat his sermons over and over again to himself, till every 
line of thought and every strong expression became perfectly 



178 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

familiar. Bascom once stopped at a backwoodsman's house, 
and left it to take a short walk. Soon a neighbor came rush- 
ing in, declaring that he had seen a crazy man walking back 
and forth on the edge of the woods, swinging his arms wildly, 
and muttering to himself in a strange manner. The neigh- 
bor was told not to be alarmed, but to come to church the 
next day and he would see the crazy man again. He did 
so, and listened to strains of eloquence as admirable as ever 
charmed his ear. 

The sermons which were thus prepared, were preached a 
great number of times, and each time reviewed and improved. 
Bascom traveled a vast extent of country, and the sermons 
which thus combined all the strength of his really powerful 
mind, for years together, soon became famous. Probably 
no preacher ever did so much with so few discourses. 

His delivery was wonderful. Henry Clay, who was well 
qualified to judge, pronounced him the finest natural orator 
he had ever heard. His form was almost perfect, his carriage 
noble and graceful, every movement light and springy, so 
that, as some of his hearers have declared, "he scarcely 
seemed to touch the ground." He dressed with great taste, 
and on this account was often objected to by the early Meth- 
odists, and came very nearly being refused admission into his 
Conference. But he soon became a general favorite with 
the people, who would throng to hear him from the whole 
country for miles around. When he entered the pulpit he 
seemed nearly borne down by the weight of his accumula- 
tions, and it was only after he had begun to make headway 
that he became easy and self-possessed. Then he poured 
forth torrent after torrent of highly wrought eloquence, until 
the hearers were lost in admiration of the vast powers he 
displayed. 

A very partial biographer considers it as very strange 
that he took but little part in any Conference discussions, 
or debates on general topics. The truth is, that with 
his mode of preparation, carried as far as he carried it, he 
could not. There was no time to forecast his sentences, and 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 170 

slowly build up a gorgeous fabric, and he therefore remained 
silent. 

He had a mighty imagination, and could so represent any 
object he undertook to describe, that it would live before the 
eyes of his hearers. But he cared so much for beauty that 
he wandered too far from his way to seek it, and the conse- 
quence was that the object of his discourse 

" Passed in music out of sight," 



and his hearers after recovering from their rapture and as- 
tonishment remained as they were before. He drew vast 
audiences together, wrought effectually for the building up 
of some colleges, collected much money for various agencies, 
was made a Bishop of the M. E. Church, South, in compli- 
ment to his eloquence, but in real work was far inferior to 
many a Methodist minister whose name is unknown to fame. 

JOHN SUMMERFIELD. 

The eloquence of the good and noble, but early fallen 
Summerfield was in sharp contrast with that of Bascom. A 
lady who had heard them both, gave the preference, in some 
neat verses, to the latter, on the ground that he was more 
grand, awe-inspiring, and tempest-like. The melody and 
pathos of Summerfield she compared to the mild zephyr, 
and thought this was necessarily inferior to the earth- 
baking storm. But the world has not agreed with her. 
Bascom held assembled thousands for hours beneath the 
charm of his voice, weeping, smiling, or shouting, at his will. 
Yet when all had passed, and the spell had been dissolved, 
the only impression that remained was one of simple wonder. 
The man and his own eloquence had risen so far above the 
subject he was to enunciate that the latter faded from the 
mind. More earnestness for truth and sympathy with it, 
would have enhanced his real power a hundredfold. 

But it was very different with Summerfield. His soul was 
full of earnestness, and he moved in an atmosphere of tender- 
ness and pathos. The eloquence of the great Whitefield 



180 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

might be compared to the whirlwind, prostrating everything 
in its path ; that of Bascom to an iceberg glowing in the rays 
of the morning sun, displaying a thousand colors, but cold 
and impassive ; and that of Summerfield to the light of the 
sun, calm and genial, shining on fields of green, filling the 
air with life and light. His speech was simple, easy, and un- 
adorned, flowing right out of his own heart, and awakening 
an answering echo in the- hearts of all who heard. The ser- 
mons which he has left are mere fragments — sketches such as 
he employed in his preparation, and of course give no idea 
of the real power he wielded. 

Stephens thus describes his method of preparation : 

" Though in the delivery of his sermons there was this 
facility — felicity we might call it — in their preparation he 
was a laborious student. He was a hearty advocate of ex- 
tempore preaching, and would have been deprived of most 
of his popular power in the pulpit by being confined to a 
manuscript ; yet he knew the importance of study, and par- 
ticularly of the habitual use of the pen in order to success in 
extemporaneous speaking. His own rule was to prepare a 
skeleton of his sermon, and after preaching it, write it out 
in fuller detail, filling up the original sketch with the princi- 
pal thoughts which, had occurred to him in the process of 
the discourse. The first outline was, however, in accordance 
with the rule we have elsewhere given for extempore speak- 
ing, viz., that the perspective of the entire discourse — the 
leading ideas, from the exordium to the peroration — should 
be noted on the manuscript, so that the speaker shall have 
the assurance that he is supplied with a consecutive series 
of good ideas, good enough to command the respect of his 
audience, though he should fail of any very important im- 
promptu thoughts. This rule we deem the most essential 
condition of success in extemporaneous preaching. It is the 
best guarantee of that confidence and self-possession upon 
which depends the command of both thought and language. 
Summerfield followed it even in his platform speeches. Mont- 
gomery notices the minuteness of his preparations in nearly 
two hundred manuscript sketches." 

This great man died at the very early age of twenty-seven, 
having preached seven years. But from the very first he 
produced a profound impression. Dr. Bethune thus describes 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 181 

one of his earliest efforts in this country. He was then 
scarcely known. It was at an anniversary of the Bible 
Society, and an able man had just spoken with great ac- 
ceptance : 

"The chair announced the Rev. Mr. Summerfield, from 
England. ' What presumption !' said my clerical neigh- 
bor ; ' a boy like that to be set up after a giant !' But the 
stripling came in the name of the God of Israel, armed with 
1 a few smooth stones from the brook ' that flows ' hard by 
the oracles of God.' His motion was one of thanks to the 
officers of the society for their labors during the year ; and 
of course he had to allude to the president, then reposing in 
another part of the house ; and thus he did it : ' When I saw 
that venerable man, too aged to warrant the hope of being 
with you at another anniversary, he reminded me of Jacob 
leaning upon the top of his staff, blessing his children before he 
departed.' He then passed on to encourage the society by 
the example of the British institution. ' When we first 
launched our untried vessel upon the deep, the storms of op- 
position roared, and the waves dashed angrily around us, 
and we had hard work to keep her head to the wind. We 
were faint with rowing, and our strength would soon have 
been gone, but we cried, * Lord, save us, or we perish ! ' 
Then a light shone upon the ivaters, and we saw a form walking 
upon the troubled sea, like unto that of the Son of God, and he 
drew near the ship, and we knew that it ivas Jesus ; and he step- 
ped upon the deck, and laid his ha?id upon the helm, and he said 
unto he winds and waves, Peace, be still, and there was a great 
calm. Let not the friends of the Bible fear ; God is in the 
midst of us. God shall help us, and that right early.' In 
such a strain he went on to the close. * Wonderful ! wonder- 
ful !' said my neighbor the critic ; * he talks like an angel 
from heaven.' " 

C. H. SPTTRGEON. 

No minister now living has been heard by so many people 
in the same number of years, or has been the subject of so 
much controversy as Spurgeon. The great populace of Lon- 
don has been moved to its depths by his preaching, and he 
has met with the same enthusiastic reception wherever he 
has preached. He is yet very young — only thirty-four years 



182 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

of age — and had become celebrated before he was twenty- 
one. Such speedy recognition is certainly a proof of great 
merit, and his example is well worth our attention. 

Spurgeon's parents were poor but respectable — his father 
and grandfather being Independent ministers. He early felt 
it his duty to preach, and even when a child was accustomed 
to preach to his playmates. His father wished him to go to 
college to qualify himself for the work in regular form, but 
after giving the matter careful consideration he declined. 
Even when he became usher at Cambridge, and began to 
preach occasionally, he refused the tempting offer of a college 
course, and gave it as his opinion that he was called to go to 
the work at once, and not to waste years in preparation. 
We can hardly tell what effect a long course of training, 
that would have allowed time for his fervid zeal to cool, 
would have had upon his after life. About the same time 
he left the church of his fathers and united with the Baptists, 
believing that immersion was the proper baptism. His oc- 
casional ministrations were marked by modesty and good 
sense, as well as loving earnestness. 

He was soon called to take charge of an old, but decayed 
church in London. Its forlorn condition did not dismay 
him, and under his vigorous care and mighty preaching the 
congregation became overflowing. The building was en- 
larged, but the congregation grew still larger. Immense 
public halls were taken, and these too were soon overflowed. 
His congregation built a new church of extraordinary size, 
which has been packed full on each preaching occasion ever 
since. Several volumes of his sermons have been published, 
and have met with a ready sale. He preaches nearly a ser- 
mon a day, corresponds with a newspaper, writes books, su- 
perintends a ministerial school, speaks for and aids a number 
of charitable institutions — altogether performing more labor 
than perhaps any other preacher of our day. Yet these mul- 
tiform labors are performed with such ease and certainty 
that he hardly ever appears tired, and gives no indication 
of breaking down. 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 183 

What is the secret of the power by which this man has 
reached the hearts of the poor more fully than any other man 
for many years ? It is admitted on all hands that he is not 
a man of profound intellect. There is no trace of unusual 
powers of thought either in his published or spoken ser- 
mons. But there is a more than ordinary force of arrange- 
ment, illustration and expression. He may not be in the first 
class of great men, but he is surely foremost in the second 
class. He also possesses wonderful enthusiasm. His faith is 
too clear for a doubt, and he is never troubled with any mis- 
givings regarding his own power of presenting the truth. 
Confidence is a part of his nature, and enables him to bear 
unmoved any amount of opposition, and, while preaching, to 
follow out any suggestions of his genius. His power of lan- 
guage is very great. From beginning to end of his discourse 
he never falters, nor uses the wrong word. His voice is 
strong, clear, and melodious, making the tritest thought in- 
teresting. But above all, he is a good man, and works solely 
for the good of his hearers. This is the reason why he is not 
intoxicated by his great success. He feels that the Holy 
Spirit labors with him, and that the blessing of God rests 
upon him. 

Spurgeon is an extempore preacher in the best sense of the 
word. He studies and meditates as fully as his time will 
permit, and at any period is ready to give what he thus mas- 
ters to the public. " I can't make out," said a minister to 
him, rt when you study, Brother Spurgeon. When do you 
make your sermons ?" " Oh I" he replied, " I am always 
studying — I am sucking in something from everything. If 
you were to ask me home to dine with you, I should suck a 
sermon out of you." One who had known him, thus writes : 

" With respect to his habits of composition, he assured us 
that not one word of his sermons is written before delivery, 
and that the only use he makes of his pen upon them is to 
correct the errors of the stenographer. His happy faculty 
of mere mental composition, and of remembering what he 
thus composes, saves him much time and drudgery. He can 



184 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

exercise it anywhere ; but probably with more success in the 
pulpit, while he is giving utterance to what he has prear- 
ranged in his mind. Learning not to read manuscript out 
of the pulpit is the best preparation for not reading it in the 
pulpit, and he who in his study can think well, independently 
of it, will, in the pulpit, think better without it; for the ex- 
citement occasioned by speaking what he has premeditated — 
if that excitement does not produce too deep feeling — will 
summon new thoughts to fill up the old ranks, and lead whole 
divisions of fresh recruits into the field." 

The almost irresistible attraction of Spurgeon's ministra- 
tions may he inferred from the following facts : 

" It was no unusual sight on a Sunday evening to see pla- 
cards put up outside of the building (Exeter Hall) announcing 
that it was full, and that no more could be admitted. In his 
own church it has been found necessary for the police to be 
present at every service, and the pew-holders are admitted by 
ticket through a side door. This accomplished, at ten minutes 
prior to the commencement of the service, the doors are opened 
and a rush commences ; but it is speedily over, for the chapel 
is full — not only the seats but every inch of standing-room 
being occupied, and the gates have to be closed, with an 
immense crowd of disappointed expectant hearers outside. 
The church has, indeed, reason to be deeply grateful that 
amid the vice and immorality of London, a voice so clear 
and loud has been lifted up for the cause of the Redeemer." 

HENRY WARD BEECHER. 

Perhaps no American minister has ever become so well 
known to the whole body of the people as Henry Ward 
Beecher. He has been bitterly criticised and opposed even 
by members of his own denomination, but has triumphed 
over every attack, and won a proud place among preachers. 
He has even become a power in the political world, and his 
devotion to the cause of liberty has endeared him to thou- 
sands who might otherwise have never heard his name. 

This great orator was born in 1813 in the State of Connec- 
ticut. His father, Lyman Beecher, was a clergyman of great 
force and celebrity. Young Beecher graduated at Amherst 
College at twenty-one, and studied theology with his father 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 185 

at Lane Seminary, Cincinnati. When this was concluded, 
he was first settled over a small Presbyterian church at Law- 
renceburg, Ind., where he remained two years, and then re- 
moved to Indianapolis, and preached eight years with great 
acceptance. His first sermon was so earnest and powerful 
that it led to the conversion of twelve persons. A course 
of lectures, which he gave during this period to young men, 
attracted great attention, and he was soon after called to 
take charge of Plymouth Church in Brooklyn. It was then 
a feeble organization ; but under his care has increased to 
vast proportions. It has now a membership of 1,700, and 
the largest regular congregation by far of any church in the 
land. The income of the church from the rent of pews is 
nearly $41,000! 

As a lecturer, Beecher stands among the very first. He 
speaks every year, in nearly every prominent city of the 
Union, and thus contributes powerfully to the success of the 
various reforms he advocates. He early gave the anti-slavery 
movement the support of his powerful eloquence, and preached 
and lectured against the great evil so effectually that no man 
was more denounced and hated at the South than he. 

In the heat of our civil contest he passed some months in 
England, and there spoke for the cause of liberty and Union. 
He met with the most embittered opposition; the rabble, 
who had been incited by handbills to come out and put him 
down, often roaring until his voice could no longer be heard. 
He would calmly watch them until the noise for a moment 
subsided, and then speak again with such effect that the vic- 
tory was soon declared in his favor. No man contributed 
more powerfully to allay the prejudice of England against 
our nation during her sore contest. 

We do not wonder at the great popularity of Beecher. 
He possesses much greater intellectual acuteness than Spur- 
geon, and is inferior in this particular to no one of the orators 
of the present day. The variety of topics he discusses is 
immense, and he brings such good sense and sound logic to 
bear on them, that the people feel him to be a teacher indeed. 



186 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

They go to hear him, expecting that he will apply high spir- 
itual truth to every day life, and are not disappointed. 

Beecher is a giant in reasoning power, and gives no light, 
superficial views of anything. His feelings are very acute, 
and by the mere force of sympathy he has the smiles and 
tears of his audience at command. His power of illustration 
is wonderful; the most abstruse subject grows plain under 
the light of his luminous comparisons. While his command 
of language is very great, and he never hesitates for a word, 
his taste is so pure that he never uses an unnecessary or ob- 
jectionable term. In fact, he speaks for the press as much 
as for the congregation before him. For years his sermons 
have been taken down by short-hand writers, and read all 
over the world. Sometimes they do not even receive a final 
correction from him. This is a convincing evidence of his 
marvelous popularity. His sermons are first preached to a 
vast assembly, and then spread before hundreds of thousands 
of readers. Not only newspapers of his own denomination, 
but of others, count it a great attraction to be able to an- 
nounce a weekly or semi-monthly sermon from this gifted 
man. 

On several occasions we were privileged to hear him, 
and will give some account of the first time we listened to 
his eloquence. A large number of people gathered long be- 
fore the hour for service, and waited impatiently for the 
opening of the door. Ten minutes before the hour the crowd 
was admitted, and every vacant pew almost instantly filled. 
Then seats were folded out from the ends of the pews into 
the aisles, and these filled until the whole vast space was one 
dense mass of living humanity ; on the ground floor or in the 
second or third galleries there was no unoccupied space. 
Many even then were forced to turn away from the door. 
The preaching was plain, logical, deep, and clear rather than 
brilliant. There was no florid imagery, but the light of im- 
agination gleamed through the whole discourse. The subject 
was naturally analyzed, every part powerfully illustrated, and 
the application pungent enough to reach every heart not en- 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 1S7 

tirely impervious. Several times a smile rippled over the 
faces of the congregation, but lasted only for a moment, and 
was generally the prelude for some deep and solemn im- 
pression. 

Beecher prepares his discourses with care, but neither 
memorizes nor reads them. On one occasion we noticed 
him lay his manuscript on the desk before him and begin to 
read. The description was beautiful, but the congregation 
seemed indifferent, and gave no evidence of close attention. 
Soon he pushed the paper away. Then every eye was bent 
upon him with intensest interest. 

Beecher' s ordinary lectures give but little indication of his 
real power. They are written and read in the same form to 
numerous audiences. But his genius finds free play only 
when the manuscript is abandoned. Then, when he speaks 
for a cause in which his heart is enlisted, we have an example 
of what mortal eloquence can be. We once heard him at a 
large meeting which he had visited as a listener. A long 
and rather dull speech had been made by the orator of the 
evening. But Beecher was seen, recognized, and called out. 
Every murmur was stilled. Laughter and tears succeeded 
each other with marvelous rapidity ; but he closed by a dar- 
ing apostrophe, spoken in a low tone, that thrilled to every 
heart, and held all spell-bound for some moments after he 
had ceased to speak ! It seemed the full realization of every 
dream of the might and power of eloquence. 

ANNA E. DICKINSON. 

This lady was born in 1841, and while quite young became 
celebrated as a public speaker. She has not won her present 
position by a single brilliant effort, but by long continued 
exertions and the display of solid talent. She is a member 
of the Society of Friends, and early imbibed the hatred of 
oppression and slavery for which that denomination is dis- 
tinguished. Her principal public speeches have been given 
in the service of freedom, and to secure a higher position and 



188 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

a wider range of employments for women. Her own exam- 
ple, as well as her teachings, has been one of great value to 
her sex. 

When Miss Dickinson began to speak she had no powerful 
friends to aid, and for a time her audiences were quite small. 
But she was too firm and devoted to the cause she advo- 
cated to grow discouraged. And there was something so 
attractive in her manner, that opposition was soon over- 
come, and her audiences grew continually. She was so truth- 
ful, earnest, elegant, and strong, that before she was twenty- 
two years of age she was recognized as a power in the politi- 
cal w T orld, and few voices more eloquent than hers were lifted 
up on behalf of liberty and justice during our civil war. She 
has also taken part in political canvassing with great success. 
Her reputation as a lyceum lecturer is fully established. In 
all the cities of the United States where she has spoken large 
and enthusiastic audiences have greeted her. 

In speaking, she is modest, graceful, and unconstrained, 
with an air and manner of perfect naturalness. There is no 
elaborate ornament in her words, but they are always well 
chosen, and flow with the utmost ease. Her discourses are 
logical, and usually bear upon a single point with overwhelm- 
ing force. Without the slightest attempt at stage effect, she 
frequently displays deep emotion, and becomes totally ab- 
sorbed in her subject. Her voice is full, clear, melodious, 
and perfectly distinct ; it is persuasive, well modulated, and 
equally capable of expressing pathos, and scorn, and com- 
mand. 

With such abilities she cannot fail to be popular, and her 
influence, which is always for good, is steadily widening. 
Yet in order to display her full power, she requires a subject 
that enlists her sympathies, and in a mere literary lecture, 
although always instructive, she does not produce the same 
vivid impression as when roused by some injustice, or plead- 
ing the cause of the oppressed and feeble. 

The manner of preparation by which this lady, who takes 
rank with the best of American orators, has acquired such 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 189 

power over words and hearts, merits attention ; in response 
to our inquiry, she says : 

" For the first three years of my public life, speaking, with 
me, was absolutely extempore ; that is, I gave a general 
look over the field before I rose to my feet, then talked. 
Since then, I consider my subject — let it lie in my mind, and 
gather fresh thoughts — statistics — what not — almost uncon- 
sciously — as a stone gathers moss. 

•' When I wish to make the speech, I arrange this mass in 
order and form — make a skeleton of it on paper, and leave 
the filling in till I reach the platform — then some things I 
have thought of are omitted, and others thought of at the 
time, are substituted. The speech changes here and there 
for some time, and then gradually crystalizes — that is all. 
I mean, of course, what is called a regular lyceum speech. 
The political speeches are made very much on my old plan." 

JOHN" A. BINGHAM. 

We selected one American political orator of the genera- 
tion that has just gone by as a specimen of the capabilities of 
extempore speech, and will now give an instance of the pres- 
ent. The speaker we have chosen is widely known. Many 
have listened to his eloquent words, and in the stormy events 
of the last few years, his name has become a household word. 
We make this choice the more readily because the charac- 
ter of eloquence for which Bingham is noted, is that which 
many persons suppose to be most incompatible with a spon- 
taneous selection of words — beauteous, elegant, melodious, 
and highly adorned. 

Bingham graduated, was admitted to the bar, and speedily 
became a successful lawyer. He also turned his attention to 
political affairs, and became known as a most efficient public 
canvasser for the doctrines of the party with which he acted. 
This is one of the best schools in the world for ready and 
vigorous speech, but has a tendency to produce carelessness 
of expression, and to substitute smartness for logic and prin- 
ciple. This tendency he successfully resisted, and became 
distinguished for the deep moral tone, as well as for the 
beauty of the language of his addresses. He was elected to 



190 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

Congress from an Ohio district, and become known as one 
of the most eloquent members of that body. He took a 
prominent part in the opposition to the Kansas and Nebraska 
bill, and met the entire approval of the people. When the 
Southern States commenced to secede in the winter of 1860- 
61 he brought forward a force bill to compel them to submit 
to national authority. This was defeated by those who 
thought that other means would avail. Time proved the 
wisdom of his views. 

All through the contest that followed, his voice was heard 
on the side of liberty and Union. He soon became known as 
one of the leaders of the Republican party, and has nobly 
held that position to the date of writing. 

Mr. Bingham, in speaking, is calm, clear and pointed. 
His manner indicates confidence, and his words flow freely. 
Imagination is allowed full play, and the spirit of poetry 
breathes everywhere. He abounds in lofty and beautiful 
imagery, that places the truth in the clearest light. While 
the subject is never lost sight of, a thousand graces and beau- 
ties cluster around it from every hand. From the elevation 
and certainty of his language, many casual hearers have been 
led to imagine that his speeches were written and committed. 
But the reverse is the case. Some of his highest efforts have 
been made with no time even for the prearrangement of 
thought. This is one secret of his great success as a de- 
bater. He is always ready, with or without warning, to 
speak the thoughts that are in his mind. But he prefers, of 
course, to have time to arrange his matter in advance. 

The following passage will illustrate the force of Mr. Bing- 
ham's thought and expression. It is from a speech in reply 
to Wadsworth, and was entirely unstudied : 

"As the gentleman then and now has chosen to assail me 
for this, I may be pardoned for calling his attention to the 
inquiry, what further did I say in that connection, on that 
day, and in the hearing of the gentleman ? I said that every 
loyal citizen in this land held his life, his property, his home, 
and the children of his house, a sacred trust for the common 
defence. Did that remark excite any horror in the gentle- 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 191 

man's mind. Not at all. I undertook, in my humble way, 
to demonstrate that, by the very letter and spirit of the Con- 
stitution, you had a right to lay the lives and the property 
and the homes, the very hearth-stones of the honest and the 
just and the good, under contribution by law, that the Re- 
public might live. Did that remark excite any abhorrence 
in the gentleman, or any threat that fifteen slave States would 
be combined against us ? Not at all. I stated in my place 
just as plainly, that by your law you might for the common 
defence not only take the father of the house, but the eldest 
born of his house, to the tented field by force of your con- 
scription, if need be, and subject him to the necessary despo- 
tism of military rule, to the pestilence of the camp, and the 
destruction of the battle-field. And yet the gentleman was 
not startled with the horrid vision of a violated Constitution, 
and there burst from his indignant lips no threat that if we 
did this there would be a union of fifteen slave States against 
the Federal despotism. I asserted in my place, further, that 
after you had taken the father and his eldest born away, and 
given them both to death a sacrifice for their country, you 
could, by the very terms of the Constitution, take away the 
shelter of the roof-tree which his own hands had reared for 
the protection of the wife and the children that were left be- 
hind, and quarter your soldiers beneath it, that the Republic 
might live. And yet the gentleman saw no infraction of the 
Constitution, and made no threat of becoming the armed ally 
of the rebellion. But the moment that I declared my con- 
viction that the public exigencies and the public necessities 
required, that the Constitution and the oaths of the people's 
Representatives required, that by your law — the imperial 
mandate of the people — the proclamation of liberty should 
go forth over all that rebel region, declaring that every slave 
in the service of these infernal conspirators against your chil- 
dren and mine, against your homes and mine, against your 
Constitution and mine, against the sacred graves of your 
kindred and mine, shall be free, the gentleman rises startled 
with the horrid vision of broken fetters and liberated bond- 
men, treason overthrown, and a country redeemed, regener- 
ated, and forever reunited, and cries, No; this shall not be; 
fifteen States will combine against you. Slavery is the civi- 
lizer; you shall neither denounce it as an 'infernal atrocity,' 
nor overthrow it to save the Union. I repeat the word 
which so moved the gentleman from his propriety, that chat- 
tel slavery is an 'infernal atrocity.' I thank God that I 
learned to lisp it at my mother's knee. It is a logical se- 



192 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

quence, sir, disguise it as you may, from that golden rule 
which was among the first utterances of all of us, i whatsoever 
ye would that men should do unto you, do ye so even unto 
them.' " 

The second instance is taken from a speech on the proposal 
to furnish relief to the Southerners who were in a destitute 
and starving condition after the close of the war. 

" No war rocks the continent, no armed rebellion threatens 
with overthrow the institutions of the country. The pillars 
of the holy temple of our liberties do not tremble in the storm 
of battle ; the whole heavens are no longer covered with 
blackness, and the habitations of the people are no longer 
filled with lamentation and sorrow for their beautiful slain 
upon the high places of the land ! Thanks be to God ! the 
harvest of death is ended and the sickle has dropped from the 
hands of the ' pale reapers ' on the field of mortal combat. 

" Sir, you may apply in the day of war the iron rule of 
war, and say that the innocent and unoffending in the be- 
leagured city shall perish with the guilty ; but when war's 
dread alarm has ended, as happily it has with us, when the 
broken battalions of rebellion have surrendered to the victo- 
rious legions of the Republic, let no man stand within the 
forum of the people and utter the horrid blasphemy that you 
shall not have regard for the famishing poor, that you shall 
not give a cup of water to him that is ready to perish in the 
name of our Master, that you shall not even relieve the wants 
of those who have never offended against the laws. The un- 
offending little children are not enemies of your country or 
of mine ; the crime of treason is not upon their souls. Surely, 
surely they are not to be denied your care. The great French 
patriot, banished from the empire for his love of liberty, gath- 
ered little children around him in his exile at Guernsey, and 
fed them from his own table, uttering the judgment of our 
common humanity in its best estate ; 4 Little children at least 
are innocent, for God wills it so.' " 

WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE. 

This great statesman and orator is an extempore speaker, 
and one of the best in the world. He has not, perhaps, the 
fiery force of John Bright, who, like himself, speaks without 
previous preparation of words, but far surpasses him in va- 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 193 

riety and elegance. His speech, like a prism, reflects a thou- 
sand shades of color, and the dullest subject undefhis treat- 
ment blooms into life and light. His style is more like that 
of Cicero than of Demosthenes, being diffuse, sparkling, 
graceful — flowing like a river, that is always full to the brim. 
He is prepared at any hour of day or night to take part in 
any discussion of interest to him. Even when he is explain- 
ing details of finance, usually the dryest of subjects, he is lis- 
tened to with delighted interest. By the mere force of his 
talents he has raised himself to a commanding position in 
England, and as a writer has also attracted much attention. 

Gladstone is of a light and nervous build, has a very sweet 
and attractive countenance, and a rich and fascinating voice. 
As a debater he is almost faultless, unless his want of harsh- 
ness and maliciousness be called a fault. Sometimes, too, he 
shows a disposition to yield rather than contend, but never 
when principle is at stake. To him, perhaps more than any 
other, belongs the credit of the great reform bill which has 
almost changed the government of Great Britain. 

The following extract from a communication on the subject 
of extempore speaking will be read with deep interest : 

"Hawanden, Nobth Wales, Oct. 12, 1867. 

. . . " I venture to remark, first, that your countrymen, 
so far as a very limited intercourse and experience can enable 
me to judge, stand very little in need of instruction or advice 
as to public speaking from this side of the water. And fur- 
ther, again speaking of my own experience, I think that the 
public men of England are, beyond all others, engrossed by 
the multitude of cares and subjects of thought belonging to 
the government of a highly diversified empire, and therefore 
are probably less than others qualified either to impart to 
others the best methods of preparing public discourses, or to 
consider and adopt them for themselves. 

" Suppose, however, I were to make the attempt, I should 
certainly found myself on a double basis, compounded as 
follows : First, of a wide and thorough general education, 
which, I think, gives a suppleness and readiness, as well as 
a firmness of tissue to the mind, not easily obtained without 
this form of discipline. Secondly, of the habit of constant 
and searching reflection on the subject of any proposed dis- 
9 



194 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

course. Such reflection will naturally clothe itself in words, 
and of the phrases it supplies, many will spontaneously rise 
to the lips. I will not say that no other forms of preparation 
can be useful, but I know little of them, and it is on these, 
beyond all doubt, that I would advise the young principally 
to rely. 

"I remain, &c, W. E. GLADSTONE. 

"W. PlTTENGER." 

MATTHEW SIMPSON. 

This distinguished divine was born in Cadiz, O., in 1811, 
began to preach in 1833, and was elected Bishop of the M. 
E. Church in J 852. At the very beginning of his ministerial 
career, his sermons made a deep impression, and his early 
promise has been abundantly realized. 

As a lecturer he has also acquired a deservedly high rank. 
During the war of the rebellion he delivered a discourse on 
the "Future of Our Country," in the principal cities of the 
United States, which gave him a more than denominational 
fame. This lecture has probably never been surpassed as a 
summing up of the resources of the nation, and an applica- 
tion of the data to the prediction of the probable destiny and 
form of our government. As far as words were concerned, it 
was an extempore address, and had the peculiarity that might 
be expected from this fact, of being much better delivered, 
and therefore, of making a much more profound impression 
at some points than others. 

Simpson travels continually, preaching at conferences, ded- 
icating churches, and delivering lectures, thus being brought 
into close contact with the people in all parts of the country. 
He has little resemblance to the popular ideal of an orator. 
His action is ungraceful, and his voice low and almost mo- 
notonous. He is also hard worked, and not having the powers 
of endurance possessed by some of our incessant preachers, he 
usually appears tired and exhausted. Yet he has three qualities 
that go far to make up for these defects. He is intensely ear- 
nest and real. Before listening to him five minutes his hearers 
are convinced that he is speaking the very thoughts of his 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 195 

soul without evasion or pretense. He also has great imagina- 
tion, and, as a consequence, the statement of facts, in which 
he abounds, is never dry or tedious. And lastly, he has great 
command of condensed and expressive language. "What he 
wishes to say is said in a few words, and every sermon is 
filled with the materials of thought rather than with mere 
verbiage. These qualities atone for every deficiency of exter- 
nal grace, and place him among the most popular ministers 
of the Methodist Church. 

Simpson preaches entirely extempore, having no time to 
write, even if he had the disposition. His memory is tena- 
cious, and his power of observation keen, so that he is never 
at a loss for facts or illustrations. He has a tender heart also, 
and often appeals to his own vivid experiences, thus drawing 
the sympathies of the people with him. 

WENDELL PHILLIPS. 

There can scarcely be a doubt that Wendell Phillips is the 
greatest professional lecturer of the present day. He is 
always radical, and on the extremest verge of every question, 
although in many things the people have followed hard on 
his footsteps. As a speaker, he has great power, combined 
with unsurpassed elegance. His manner is calm, his voice 
of silvery sweetness, yet every rounded sentence is full of 
living flame, and no man is so unsparing in his denuncia- 
tions. In a style as lucid, exact, and pure as that of a scholar 
who has been all his life secluded from the world, and busied 
with literature alone, he utters words and sentences befitting 
the stormiest revolution. 

The lectures of Phillips, which are repeated again and 
again, are, of course, well studied and the language followed 
pretty closely, though not invariably. But like Mirabeau, 
it is in his unstudied speeches that he rises highest. The 
first address that gave him public fame was of this char- 
acter. A meeting had been called in Boston to pass resolu- 
tions of indignation on the occasion of the murder of Love- 
joy, who was killed in Illinois for his devotion to freedom. 



196 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

The whole business of the meeting was arrested, and the 
resolutions were on the point of being defeated by the pow- 
erful opposition of a leading politician, who feared even to 
say that murder was wrong. Phillips was present as a lis- 
tener, but could keep his seat no longer, and, arising, gave 
vent to his feelings in a speech so full of thrilling and indig- 
nant eloquence, that the purpose of the meeting was at once 
secured, and he himself brought before the public as one of 
the first orators of the age. 

In regard to the manner of his preparation Phillips himself 
refers to the celebrated letter of Lord Brougham to the father 
of Macaulay, on the training of his son in eloquence. The 
substance of Brougham's advice is, to first acquire the power 
of speaking freely and easily before an audience, no matter 
at what sacrifice of accuracy and elegance. This, he says 
truly, can' only be done by much practice. When this is 
accomplished, he recommends studying and committing to 
memory the orations of Demosthenes until their spirit is fully 
imbibed. 

JOHN P. DTTRBIX. 

This traveler, scholar, and preacher, adds another one to 
the long and illustrious list of those who have triumphed over 
every hindrance and risen to eminence. He was born in 
1800. A district school afforded him all the education he 
obtained before entering the Methodist itineracy, but while 
enduring the hardships of a pioneer minister he studied 
diligently, perusing his Bible and commentaries around the 
log fires of his parishioners whenever even this poor oppor- 
tunity occurred. When he was appoiuted to Cincinnati a 
more promising field opened. He went to college during 
the week, and still filled his pulpit on the Sabbath. He soon 
after became a professor in a college, and afterward chaplain 
to Congress, where he was highly distinguished. Then he 
served a time as editor of the New York Advocate, and became 
President of Dickenson College. Next he traveled through 
the old world, as far as Egypt and Syria, and, returning, 



EMINENT SPEAKERS. 197 

wrote a very interesting account of his journey. He was, 
lastly, elected Corresponding Secretary of the M. E. Mission- 
ary Society — a position which he has held for years, and 
which brings him into contact with large masses of people 
in every part of the country. 

The merits of Durbin as an orator are many and high. He 
possesses deep feeling, and the tears of the people to whom 
he preaches are at his command. There is a greatness about 
his character that is always felt, and with it a childlike sim- 
plicity that endears him to every heart. There is an utter 
absence of the pretension we sometimes find about those 
who are conscious of the possession of great powers. His 
arrangement of every sermon is plain, simple, and easily re- 
membered. His command of words is complete, and he 
always finds just the one he wants without hesitation. The 
tones of his voice are affectionate and pleasing, though when 
not called into animation by some subject worthy of his 
powers, a little monotonous, yet so strong that when he 
seems to be only talking at the pitch of common conversation, 
every word can be heard to the extremity of the largest 
church. But his voice can be raised to a thunder peal that 
is the more impressive because it is seldom employed. The 
perfect ease with which he preaches, is far different from the 
manner of those who have memorized every word and are 
full of anxiety for its effect. Often while he talks away 
with apparent indifference, every eye is fixed on his, or 
moistened with tears. "When we heard him, some of his 
images were overwhelmingly sublime, and we held our breath 
in awe ; at other times his explanations seemed to throw new 
and radiant light on what was before dark and obscure. 

The mode by which Durbin attained his great success is 
worthy of careful attention. In a communication to the 
compiler of these notices, he says : 

. . . "I never wrote my sermons — not more than two 
or three in my life — and these not till after I had preached 
them. My plan has been to have a well-defined topic, and 
only such subdivisions as naturally arise out of the topic. I 



198 EXTEMPORE SPEAKING. 

generally put them down separately on a small piece of paper, 
which I take into the pulpit, but scarcely ever use. This is 
commonly called a skeleton. I do not write out anything I 
propose to say, but carefully think over the main points ; 
but never commit them to memory. I keep within living 
touch of my skeleton, but depend on the natural conseeutive- 
ness of thought to enable me to clothe it with muscle ; and 
I depend on die inspiration of the occasion to give it life and 
color. The inspiration is partly human and "partly divine ; 
arising from the combined action of the divine and the hu- 
man spirit, which combined action constitutes the power of 
a preached gospel. 

" So far as human ability is concerned, I believe that this is 
the secret of any success I have had in preaching the Gospel." 

NEWMAN HALL. 

The Evangelist gives Rev. Newman Hall's account of how 
he learned extempore preaching, as follows : 

" When I went to college, it seemed to me that I should 
never be able to say a word in public without writing. But 
I soon determined that if I was going to be a preacher, and 
particularly if I wanted to be anything like a successful 
preacher, I must form the habit of extemporaneous address. 
So I went into my room, locked the door, placed the Bible 
before me on a mantel, opened it at random, and then on 
whatever passage my eye chanced to rest, proceeded to de- 
liver a discourse of ten minutes. This practice was kept up 
an entire twelve months. Every day, for a whole year, ten 
minutes were given to that kind of speaking, in my own 
room by myself. At first I found it very difficult to speak 
so long right to the point. But then if I couldn't talk on 
the subject I would talk about it — making good remarks and 
moral reflections — being careful to keep up the flow, and say 
something to the end of the term allotted for the exercise. 
At the end of the twelve months, however, I found I could 
not only speak with a good degree of fluency, but that I could 
hold myself strictly to the subject in hand. You take this 
course. Don't do your practising on an audience. That is 
outrageous." 



APPENDIX. 



i. 
THE CHAIRMAN'S GUIDE. 

ORDER OF PROCEEDINGS IN VARIOUS MEETINGS. 

When the business of an assembly is limited to hearing 
one man speak, there is little need of rules. But when there 
are several speeches, and various kinds of business are min- 
gled with them, the subject of order becomes important. 
Many a fluent speaker may be embarrassed because he does 
not know just when he ought to speak, and how to introduce 
what he desires. A member of Congress, for instance, can- 
not be efficient, no matter what his talents, until he masters 
the rules of business. Even in smaller and less formal 
assemblies it is of great advantage to every one, especially if 
called upon to preside, as all may be in this land of discus- 
sions, to know just how to fulfil the duties imposed on 
him. In this short, and necessarily imperfect sketch, we will 
only aim to give those simple forms of parliamentary law 
that will often be needed by every man who essays to speak 
at all. 

Every society has the right to form its own laws, and 
whenever it does positively determine any matter, the gen- 
eral rules of order are superseded to that extent. But it 
would be an endless task for any body to provide before- 
hand for every case th^t might occur, and the greater part 
of these are always left to be decided by general usage. 
This usage, which has been growing up for years, now covers 

(199) 



200 APPENDIX. 

almost every possible point. An eminent authority says: 
"It is much more material that there should be a rule to go 
by than what that rule is, for then the standard cannot be 
changed to suit the caprice or interest of the chairman, or 
more active members, and all are assured of justice." 

The same rules apply to all assemblies, with a few modi- 
fications, which are readily suggested by the nature of the 
assembly. We will give a few of the special applications 
first, and afterward the general rules. 

RELIGIOUS ASSEMBLIES. 

The regular public service of churches which have a ritual 
is governed by it, and in those which hare none, usage 
always fixes a course from which the preacher should not vary 
without good reasons. The most common mode of procedure 
in churches that are governed by unwritten custom is, first, 
a short invocation of God's blessing on the service. This is 
omitted in the Methodist church and some others. Then 
follows the reading and singing of a hymn ; prayer, the read- 
ing of a Scripture lesson (which is frequently omitted in even- 
ing service), singing again and preaching. There are several 
modes of closing. Sometimes the order is : prayer ; singing a 
hymn, with doxology attached ; and benediction. Sometimes 
singing comes first, then prayer, and the benediction pro- 
nounced while the congregation is in the attitude of prayer. 
Sometimes there are four distinct acts ; singing a hymn ; 
prayer ; singing the doxology ; and benediction. The order 
in which these modes of closing are stated is, in our opinion, 
also the order of preference. 

Business and congregational meetings are governed by the 
common rules of order. 

ANNIVERSARIES, CELEBRATIONS, ETC. 

In meetings of this character, the object usually is to enjoy 
a pleasant time, hear speeches, and pass resolutions that have 
been prepared beforehand, and on which no discussion is 
expected. In Sunday-school celebrations, and other meetings 



APPENDIX. 201 

of the same nature, let a programme be formed, with each 
performance in its order, and either printed and distributed 
or read as soon as the meeting is called to order. This must 
be done at the proper time by the superintendent, or some 
one appointed for the purpose, who will act as chairman, 
and introduce each speaker in his turn. Any resolutions 
offered should be in writing, and also read by him, and put 
to vote in the regular form. When the exercises are closed 
the meeting will be dismissed without waiting for a motion 
to adjourn. 

In anniversary meetings of a more formal character, it is 
common to have each speaker supplied, in advance, with a 
resolution on which he is to speak. At the proper time he 
will arise, offer the resolution, and make his address. If it 
is desirable to have more than one speech on that resolution, 
the next can second the motion and speak in the same way. 
Then the resolution may be put in the common form. This 
can be continued until all the resolutions and speakers are 
disposed of. 

LITERARY AND EDUCATIONAL SOCIETIES. 

In the societies usually attached to colleges, everything 
should be done with the most scrupulous regularity, and thus 
the rules of public business fully learned. It is well also for 
them to have a certain order by which all their exercises 
shall be governed, and everything made to move on with the 
regularity of clockwork. A committee can easily construct 
such a plan, and it can be amended as desired. It should 
always have a department for miscellaneous business. 

Literary societies and debating clubs are very commonly 
formed in villages and school districts, and when properly 
carried on can scarcely fail to be profitable. Many a person 
has received his first lesson in eloquence in such a school, 
and the fluency and confidence a boy or young man can ac- 
quire in them may be of life long advantage. Their organ- 
ization may be very simple. A meeting has been called by 
some one w' ■» is interested in the matter, and when the peo- 
9* 



202 , APPENDIX. 

pie are met he calls them to order, nominates a chairman, 
puts the question, and at the request of the chair explains 
the object of the meeting. Some one then moves to appoint 
a committee to draft a Constitution and By-laws. It is best 
for the committee to have these previously prepared, that no 
time may be lost. The following form, taken from " How to 
Talk," with a few modifications, will be all that is needed in 
most cases : 

CONSTITUTION. 
Article I. — Name. 
This Society shall be known as the of 

Article II. — Objects. 
The object of this Society shall be the improvement of its Members in 
debating, and the promotion of their intellectual, social, and moral ad- 
vancement. 

Article III. — Membership. 

Any person of good moral character may become a member of this 
Society, by signing the Constitution and paying the initiation fee. [In 
some cases it may be necessary to receive Members by a vote of the 
Society, after being regularly proposed.] 

Article IV.— Officers and their Duties. 
The Officers of this Society shall consist of a President, a Vice-Presi- 
dent, a Secretary, and a Treasurer ; each of whom shall be elected by 
ballot, and their duties shall be the same as are generally required of 
such officers in similar societies. 

Article V. — Amendments. 
No addition, alteration, or amendment shall be made to this Constitu- 
tion without a vote of two-thirds of the Members present, and no motion 
to amend shall be acted upon at the same meeting at which it is pro- 
posed. 

BY-LAWS. 

Article I. — Meetings. 

Sec. 1. — This Society shall meet on the of each 

for the promotion of its objects and the transaction of business. 

Sec. 2. — There shall be an annual meeting on the of 

for the election of Officers, and to hear the reports of the Secretary and 
Treasurer. 

Sec. 3.— Special meetings may be called by the President at the re- 
quest of Members. 



APPENDIX. 203 

article IL — Initiation Fee. 
All persons received into this Society shall pay the sum of 
on signing the Constitution. 

Article III. — Dues. 
All Members shall pay the sum of per month, to be appro- 

priated, with the initiation fees, to defraying the expenses of the Soci- 
ety ; and no Member who may be in arrears for dues more than two 
months shall be allowed to speak or vote on any question till such ar- 
rearages shall be paid. 

Article IV. — Expulsions. 
Any Member who shall refuse to conform to the Constitution and 
By-laws, or shall be guilty of repeated disorderly conduct, shall be sub- 
jected to expulsion by a vote of two-thirds of the Members present ; but 
no motion to expel a Member shall be acted upon at the same meeting 
at which it is offered. 

Article V. — Amendments. 
The same rule in reference to amendments shall apply to the By-laws 
as to the Constitution. 

The Constitution when presented may be discussed, and 
put to vote, altogether, or article by article ; if adopted, it 
becomes the law of the meeting. A list of members will 
then be made out, including all who desire to be enrolled, 
and are willing to pay the initiation fee. Then a new elec- 
tion of officers should be held, with those only who are mem- 
bers voting. The old chairman will retain his seat until the 
new one is elected. When it is intended to have performances 
of different kinds, as essays, orations, debates, etc., it is well 
to appoint a committee to draw up a regular order in which 
these will be called for. The society being now organized, 
may proceed to business, or fix the time for next meeting 
and adjourn. 

WARD, DISTRICT, OR TOWNSHIP MEETINGS. 

When one or more persons desire to call a meeting for any 
purpose, there is often great confusion and uncertainty as to 
the mode of procedure. A few simple rales will go far to 
obviate all difficulty. In the call, those only who are favor- 



204 APPENDIX. 

able to the intended object should be invited, and if others 
attend, they should take no part in the meeting, unless chal- 
lenged to discussion. 

The responsibility for the guidance of the meeting until its 
regular organization, rests on those who have called it. When 
the people have met at the appointed time, one of these will 
ask them to come to order, and will then nominate a chair- 
man ; when this is seconded, he will put it to vote, and call 
the man elected to the chair, who will put all other motions. 
A secretary also should be elected, and then the meeting is 
regularly organized. The chairman next states the object of 
the meeting, or if he prefers, calls upon one of those inter- 
ested to do it. 

Some one will then move the appointment of a committee 
(which is said to be the American panacea for everything) 
to prepare resolutions expressive of the wishes or opinion of 
the meeting. If the names of the persons to compose the 
committee be not mentioned in the original motion, it is usual 
for the chairman to name them, putting the name of the 
mover first on the list. The chairman may, for good reasons, 
excuse any one of the committee from acting, if there be no 
objections on the part of the assembly. But if there are, he 
can only be excused by vote. The committee then require 
some time to make their report, and it is common for the 
chairman to call on some one, who ought to be notified be- 
forehand, for a speech. When the committee have finished 
their business they will return, and waiting until no one is 
speaking, their chairman will address the chairman of the 
meeting, telling him that they are ready to report. If no 
objection is made, the resolutions prepared are then read, 
and are at the disposal of the meeting. They may be treated 
separately, or together, amended, adopted or rejected. The 
resolutions may be prepared beforehand, in which case the 
appointment of the committee may be dispensed with. If 
the resolutions should not be satisfactory, they may be re- 
committed. 

When the resolutions have been disposed of, the speaker 



APPENDIX. 205 

will announce that there is no business before the house, 
which will either bring a motion to adjourn, or new business. 

DELEGATED BODIES. 

All legislatures, boards of directors, etc., hold their power 
only in trust for others who are not present, and are there- 
fore held to stricter limitations in the performance of business 
than those assemblies which act only for themselves. In case 
the right of any delegate is disputed, this must be settled as 
soon as possible. In nearly all such meetings it is also pro- 
vided that many things shall not be considered as determined 
until referred back to those by whom the members were 
chosen. With these exceptions, and the special rules that 
such bodies may provide, they are under the strict govern- 
ment of parliamentary law. 

CONTINUED MEETINGS. 

When any body holds sessions at intervals, it becomes 
necessary to bear in mind what has been previously done. 
This is accomplished by having the minutes of each meeting 
read at the beginning of the next, and if any mistakes exist 
they are corrected. This enables the assembly to take up 
the business where it closed, and proceed as if there had been 
no interruption. It is also well to have a certain order of 
business fixed, which shall always suggest what is proper 
to be done and prevent confusion. This order will necessa- 
rily differ in the various kinds of meetings. Legislative 
bodies, from the great variety of business brought before 
them, can seldom fix on any order that can be followed from 
day to day, but they often establish a regular order for a 
certain time. Matthias suggested the following arrangement 
for business meetings of bank directors, railway stockhold- 
ers, etc. : 

1. Presenting communications from parties outside of the 
meeting. A communication is read, and motions for action 
on it may be made, amended, and passed or rejected. After 



I 



206 APPENDIX. 

this has been done, or if no motion is made, the next commu- 
nication is taken up. 

2. Reports of standing committees. The chairman will 
call for these in their order, and each one, if prepared, will 
be read by the chairman of the committee. It should close 
with a resolution of some kind, and when it is moved and 
seconded that this be adopted, it may be discussed and de- 
termined as the assembly see fit. The minority of a com- 
mittee may make a separate report if they wish. 

3. Treasurer's report. 

4. Unfinished business. 

5. New business. 



II. 

GENERAL RULES OF ORDER. 

QUORUM — RULE8 DECISION. 

1. In bodies which have a fixed number of members, a cer- 
tain proportion must be present to make the transaction of 
business valid. The number may be fixed by the expression 
of the assembly, or its general custom. In the absence of any 
other rule, a majority is sufficient. The chairman should not 
take his seat until he sees that a quorum is present, and if 
the assembly is at any time reduced below this number, noth- 
ing but adjournment is in order. 

2. The assembly may make its own rules in whole or in 
part, but whatever it does not determine, shall be subject to 
the common rules of order. 

Any member has a right to insist on the enforcement of 
the rules, but this duty belongs especially to the chair. 

3. In the absence of any special rule, the consent of a ma- 
jority of the members voting is requisite to determine any 
point. A plurality, where more than two issues are pre- 
sented, is not sufficient. 

OFFICERS. 

Presiding and recording officers are necessary in every 
meeting, and must be chosen by an absolute majority. When 
the assembly has financial matters to manage, a treasurer 
must also be elected. 

PRESIDING OFFICER. 

This officer is known by various titles, such as chairman, 
president, speaker, moderator, etc. We will use the first. 
The chairman represents the assembly, declares its will, and 

(207) 



208 APPENDIX. 

obeys it implicitly. He must be treated with great respect, 
although his power is only a delegated one, and may be set 
aside by the declared will of the assembly. His principal 
duties are : 

1. To begin the session by taking the chair and calling the 
members to order. 

2. To announce business in its order. 

3. To submit all motions and propositions. 

4. To put all questions and announce the result. 

5. To restrain members within rules of order. 

6. To receive all communications and announce them to 
the assembly. 

V. To sign public documents. 

8. To decide points of order, subject to an appeal to the 
assembly. 

The chairman should fully understand all the rules of busi- 
ness, be kind and courteous to all, but prompt and firm, for 
on him, more than any other, the order and harmony of every 
meeting depends. 

In the absence of the chairman, the vice-president takes 
the chair, and when there is no such officer, a temporary 
chairman must be elected. 

The chairman may read while sitting, but should rise to 
state a question or take a vote. 

RECORDING OFFICER. 

Secretary or clerk is the name usually bestowed on this 
officer. We will employ the first. It is his duty to keep a 
true record of all that is done in the assembly. Speeches 
and motions that do not prevail, need not be recorded. But 
it is sometimes customary, when it is intended to publish 
the proceedings, and no reporter is present, for the secretary 
to make the minutes take the forru of a journal. 

2. The secretary must keep all papers that belong to the 
society in safety ; read them when ordered ; call the roll ; 
notify committees of their appointment and business ; and 
sign all orders and proceedings of the assembly. 



APPENDIX. 209 

3. A temporary secretary must be elected during the ab- 
sence of the permanent one, unless there is an assistant to 
take his place. 

4. The secretary should always stand in reading, or calling 
the roll. 

MEMBERS. 

1. All members are on a footing of absolute equality, and 
in every form of business the same courtesy and attention 
should be shown to each one by the chair and by all other 
members. 

2. Every member is expected to observe strict decorum in 
his behavior. Standing, walking about, interrupting speak- 
ers, hissing, whispering, taking books or papers from the 
speaker's table, are all breaches of decorum. 

3. Any member accused of disorderly behavior may, when 
the charge is stated, be heard in his own behalf, and is then 
required to withdraw, until the assembly decides as to his 
guilt and punishment. He may be reprimanded, required to 
apologize, or expelled. 

MOTIONS. 

1. Business can only be introduced into an assembly by a 
motion. Persons, not members, may make communications, 
or send petitions asking for the doing of certain things ; but 
these must be taken by one of the members, and by him read 
or presented to the assembly. It is then before the body for 
consideration, but nothing can be done with it until a motion 
is made by some one belonging to the assembly. 

2. An assembly expresses its opinion by a resolution, com- 
mands by an order, and determines its own action by a vote. 
A member who wishes to secure either of these, draws it up 
in the form he desires it to bear, and moves that the assem- 
bly adopt what he proposes. He must first obtain the floor. 
This is done by rising and addressing the chairman by his 
title. If there be no previous claimant, the chairman re- 
sponds by mentioning the speaker's name, when he is at liberty 



210 APPENDIX. 

to go on. When he has made his motion, another member 
must second it before the assembly will receive it or pay any 
attention to it. The chair or any member may insist on the 
motion being written, unless it is one of the kind that have a 
certain form, such as to adjourn, etc. The motion when sec- 
onded, is to be stated by the chair, when it becomes the prop- 
erty of the assembly, and is ready for debate or such other 
action as may be preferred. Suggestions and modifications 
of the motion may be made, or it may be withdrawn alto- 
gether, before this ; but not after, without leave of the assem- 
bly formally expressed. No other motion, with some excep- 
tions to be hereafter explained, can be entertained until the 
first is disposed of. 

When a motion is made the assembly may do one of five 
things with it. 

1. Decide it in the shape it then has. 

2. Suppress all consideration of it or action on it. 

3. Postpone it until a future time. 

4. Refer it to a committee to be put in a better form. 

5. Amend it themselves before deciding it. 

We will consider these different ways of treating a ques- 
tion in their order. 

1. — DECISION. 

It is always to be taken for granted that the assembly is 
willing to decide a motion at once, unless some one moves to 
adopt one of the other courses. It may be repeated first, and 
when no one rises, the chair asks if they are ready for the 
question; if no one responds, it is put to vote. 

2. — SUPPRESSION. 

1. Sometimes the assembly does not wish to discuss a mo- 
tion at all. In that case a member may move that it be in- 
definitely postponed. If this is debated, the matter remains 
as it was before. If it prevails, the matter is ended, and can 
only be brought up as a new question. 

2. The motion to lay a subject on the table has nearly the 



APPENDIX. 211 

same effect. If it prevails, the subject cannot be taken up 
without a motion to that effect. 

3. The famous " previous question " has a totally different 
purpose in this country and England. There it is used to 
postpone a question. Its form is, " Shall the main question 
now be put ?" and it is moved by those who wish to obtain 
a negative decision, the effect of which is to remove the ques- 
tion from before the house for that day, and by usage for the 
whole session. 

4. In this country it is used to prevent debate, and is only 
moved by those who wish an affirmative decision. When 
this is carried the question must be voted upon without 
further remarks. A majority ought to use this power of 
stopping debate very sparingly, and never without good 
reason. 

3. — POSTPONEMENT. 

If the assembly is not prepared to act upon a question, or 
has more important business before it, the proper course is 
for some one to move that it be postponed until a certain 
time. If no time is fixed the question is suppressed alto- 
gether. If the assembly is dissolved before the appointed 
day, the effect is the same. 

4. — COMMITMENT. 

If the form of the motion is crude, it may be given into the 
hands of a committee to perfect. If it first came from a com- 
mittee, it may be given back to them, which is called a re- 
commitment. The whole or a part of a subject may be 
committed, and the assembly may, by vote, give such instruc- 
tions as it desires. This motion is sometimes made use of 
for the purpose of procuring further information. 

5. AMENDMENT. 

The assembly may alter, increase, or diminish any propo- 
sition at its pleasure. Its nature is often changed entirely. 






212 APPENDIX. 

1. Every complicated question may be divided by a regu- 
lar vote. This is usually done, if no objection is offered, 
without a vote, but it cannot be required by a single member 
as is sometimes stated. A motion to divide should specify 
the manner of division. 

2. If blanks are left in resolutions, these must be filled by 
motion. If these embrace figures, and several numbers are 
proposed, that which includes the others may be put to vote 
first. But it is usually as well to put first that which is 
moved first. 

3. All motions to amend, except by division, must be to 
amend by inserting or adding, or by striking out, or both. 

4. An amendment may be accepted by the mover of a res- 
olution, if no objection is made, for then general consent is 
presumed ; but not otherwise. 

5. It is strict parliamentary law to begin with the begin- 
ning of a proposition, and after the latter part is amended, 
not to return to a former part ; but this is seldom insisted on 
in common societies. 

6. Every amendment is susceptible of amendment, but this 
can go no further. But the second amendment may be de- 
feated, and then a new one made to the principal amend- 
ment. 

7. Whatever is agreed to, or disagreed to by the accept- 
ance or rejection of an amendment cannot again be changed. 

8. What is struck out cannot be inserted by another 
amendment, unless with such additions as to make it a new 
question. Neither can what is retained be changed. 

9. Before putting the question on an amendment, the pas- 
sage should be read as it was ; then the amendment ; lastly 
the passage as amended. 

10. A paragraph that is inserted by vote cannot be changed, 
but it may be amended before the question is put. 

11. When the amendment is both to strike out and insert, 
these two may be divided by vote or general consent, and 
then the question is taken first on striking out. 



APPENDIX. 213 

PREFERRED MOTIONS. 

When a motion is before the assembly, it must be disposed 
of before anything else can be brought forward, with the 
exception of three classes of questions. These are privi- 
leged, incidental, and subsidiary questions. 

1. PRIVILEGED QUESTIONS. 

1. The motion to adjourn takes precedence of every other, 
except when it has been moved and defeated, when it shall 
not be moved again until something else has been done. It 
cannot be moved while a member is speaking, or a vote being 
taken. But to be entitled to such precedence, it must be a 
simple motion to adjourn, without question of time or place. 
If these are added, it must take its regular turn. An adjourn- 
ment without any time being fixed, is equivalent to a disso- 
lution, unless this has been provided for by custom or especial 
rule. At adjournment every pending question is taken from 
before the assembly, and can only be brought up again in 
the regular way. 

2. Any question affecting the rights and privileges of 
members, as in quarreling, the intrusion of strangers, etc., 
comes next in order to adjournment, and displaces every- 
thing else. 

3. If the assembly fix on an order of business for a certain 
time, when that time arrives, a motion to take up this order 
has precedence of all questions, but the two preceding. 

2. INCIDENTAL QUESTIONS. 

Incidental questions are those that grow out of other ques- 
tions, and must be decided before them. 

1. Questions of order. If there is a breach of rules it is 
the duty of the chair to enforce them, and any member to 
call for their enforcement. This should be done at once. 
When there is a doubt as to what constitutes a breach of 
the rules, it is first decided by the chair, subject to an appeal 
to the assembly, which may be put in this form, " Shall the 



214 APPENDIX. 

decision of the chair stand as the decision of the assembly ?" 
On this the chair may debate as well as others, but the vote 
is final. 

2. When papers are laid on the secretary's table for the 
information of the assembly, any member may demand to 
have them read ; but other papers can only be read after a 
regular motion is carried to that effect. 

3. After a motion is stated by the chair, permission may 
be given to withdraw it by a regular vote. 

4. A rule that interferes with the transaction of any busi- 
ness may be suspended by a unanimous vote, or in accord- 
ance with the provisions of a special rule which points out 
the majority requisite, such as two-thirds, three-fourths, etc. 

3. — SUBSIDIARY QUESTIONS. % 

These relate to the principal question as secondary planets 
do to their primaries. They are of different degrees amon^ 
themselves, and with a few exceptions are not applied to one 
another. 

1. " Lie on the table." This takes precedence of all the 
subsidiary motions. If carried, it takes the principal ques- 
tion and all that belongs to it from the consideration of the 
assembly, and they can only be brought up by a new mo- 
tion. If decided in the negative, this question, like all the 
others of the same class, except the previous question, has no 
effect whatever. 

2. " Previous question." This motion can only be super- 
seded by that to lay on the table. If lost, the question is 
not before the house for the remainder of that day. 

3. A motion to postpone may be amended by fixing the 
time or changing it. If several days are mentioned, the 
longest time should be put first. 

4. A motion to commit takes precedence of a motion to 
amend, but stands in the same rank with the others, except 
to lay on the table, and- cannot be superseded by them, if 
moved first. 

5. A motion to amend may be amended. It is not super- 



APPENDIX. 215 

seded by the previous question, or a motion for indefinite 
postponement, but is by a motion to postpone till a time cer- 
tain, or to commit. 

It is very important that the order of these secondary ques- 
tions be carefully observed, as there may be many of them 
pending at once. 

DEBATE. 

. Debate in a society organized for the purpose of discussion, 
and in a deliberative body are quite different. In the former 
reply is expected, and may be bandied back and forth several 
times. In the latter the object is supposed to be giving in- 
formation, and each member is limited to one speech, unless 
special permission is received to speak again. The chair 
must not take part in debates. 

1. When a member wishes to speak, he obtains the floor 
in the same manner as if to offer a motion. The mover of a 
resolution is usually allowed the floor first, but this is a mat- 
ter of courtesy rather than right. 

2. When a speaker gives up the floor for any purpose, he 
loses his right to it, though as a favor he is often allowed 
to continue his speech. 

3. No names are to be used in debate, but when it becomes 
necessary to designate an individual, some description may 
be used, as, the gentleman on the right, etc. 

4. Every member must stand, when speaking, unless sick 
or disabled. 

5. Motions to adjourn, to lay on the table, for the previous 
question, or the order of the day cannot be debated. 

6. No member shall use abusive language against any of 
the acts of the assembly, or indulge in personal denunciations 
of other members. Wrong motives must not be attributed 
to any one. If a speaker digresses widely from the subject, 
and appears to misunderstand its nature, he may be called 
to order. 

7. A member who is decided to be out of order loses his 
right to the floor, but this is seldom insisted on. 









216 APPENDIX. 

8. A member cannot speak more than once on the same 
question without special permission, which must not be given 
until all have spoken; but he may speak on amendments, and 
on the same subject, when it is returned from a committee. 

10. A member who has been misrepresented has the right 
to explain, but not to interrupt any one who is speaking for 
that purpose. 

11. Debate may be stopped by the previous question ; by 
determining in advance that at a certain time, the question 
shall be decided ; or by adopting a rule limiting each mem- 
ber to so many minutes. In the latter case, the chair an- 
nounces the expiration of the time, and the member takes 
his seat. 

12. Every member should be listened to with respect, and 
no attempt made to interrupt him, unless he transgress the 
bounds of order. Calling for the question, hissing, cough- 
ing, etc., should be restrained by the chair if possible. The 
speaker may learn from these things that the assembly does 
not wish to hear him, but he is not bound to heed them. If 
necessary, the chair will name the obstinate offenders for 
punishment, who may be heard in their own defence, but 
must then withdraw while the assembly determines what 
punishment should be inflicted. But if all means of pre- 
serving order fail, and the chairman's repeated calls are un- 
noticed, he is not responsible for this disorder, although it 
would be better then to resign an office that he can no longer 
make respected, unless so bound by public duty that he can- 
not take this course. 

13. If a member in speaking makes use of disorderly words, 
notice should be taken at once. The words used, if the 
offence is serious, should be reduced to writing while fresh 
in the memory of all. If necessary, the assembly may deter- 
mine what words were used, whether they were offensive or 
not, and at its pleasure require an apology, censure, or expel 
the offender. If other business is done before attention 
is called to the disorderly words, they cannot again be 
taken up. 



APPENDIX. 217 

PUTTING THE QUESTION. 

When discussion and all preliminary matters are finished, 
the next step is to ascertain the will of the assembly. There 
are six ways of doing this. We will put first those that are 
most used : 

1. The chair asks, " Are you ready for the question ?" No 
objection being made, he first puts the affirmative, asking 
those who favor the motion to say, " Aye ;" those who are 
opposed, " No." He judges from the volume of sound, and 
declares which he believes has the majority. If any one 
doubts this, he may require the vote to be taken in a more 
exact way. 

2. In place of saying " aye," the affirmative may be asked 
to hold up their hands ; then when these are down the same 
is asked of the negative. The determination in this case is 
the same as in the former case. 

3. The affirmative may be required to rise to their feet and 
be counted ; and when seated the negative will rise. These 
will also be counted, and this is the mode most commonly re- 
sorted to, when the result as declared by the chair, from the 
former methods, is doubted. 

4. In this the affirmative and negative may stand up at 
once, but in different parts of the house, and be counted. 
This is a real " division." 

5. The method by ballot may be employed ; each man 
writing his wish on a ticket. These are collected and counted. 
This mode is often employed in the election of officers, but 
seldom in the determination of simple questions. 

6. The roll may be called by the secretary, and each man 
in his place answer, " Aye," or " No." These are marked by 
the secretary, and others who keep tally, and the result an- 
nounced. Sometimes the names are entered on the journals, 
in two lists of " Aye " and " No." The word " Yea," is often 
used in place of " Aye." 

The chair has a casting vote in case of equal division. 
A member who voted with the affirmative may move the 
10 



218 APPENDIX. 

reconsideration of any question, and if his motion is earned, 
the whole matter is opened up as it was at first, and may be 
discussed as before. 

COMMITTEES. 

The use of a committee is to give a subject more careful 
consideration than it could receive in a full assembly. They 
are of three kinds. From their great importance they are 
said to be the eyes and ears of the assembly. 

1. Standing committees are those that are appointed to 
take charge of all subjects of a certain character during a 
session, or other specified time. 

2. Select committees are appointed to take charge of some 
one thing, and when that is finished they are dissolved, al- 
though they may be revived again by a vote of the assembly. 

In appointing a committee, the first thing is to fix on a 
number : if several are named, the largest should be put first. 
The committees may be chosen by ballot ; appointed by the 
chair ; or elected by nomination and vote. The latter is the 
regular mode when there is no special rule, but the second is 
most frequently practised. Sometimes a committee is ap- 
pointed to nominate all other committees, but this is not 
usually the case. The mover and seconder of a resolution 
should have place on a committee appointed to consider it, 
and, as a general rule, none but those who are friendly to the 
object to be accomplished should be appointed. Those op- 
posed can make their opposition when it is returned to the 
assembly. 

It is the duty of the secretary of the assembly to make out 
a list of the members of a committee, and hand to the person 
first named on it, who is its chairman, unless the committee 
shall choose to elect another. 

The assembly can fix the times and places of the meeting 
of a committee ; if this is not done, it can choose for itself, 
but cannot sit while the assembly is in session without a 
special order. 

In all forms of procedure the committee is governed by 



APPENDIX. 219 

the same rales as the assembly, but a little less strictness is 
observed in their enforcement. 

Disorderly conduct in a committee can only be noted down 
and reported to the assembly. 

When any paper has been referred to a committee, it must 
be returned as it was, with proposed amendments written 
separately. They cannot reject any matter, but can return 
it to the assembly without change, stating their reasons for 
taking no action. 

When a committee is prepared to report, its chairman 
announces the fact, and he, or an other member, may make 
a motion that the report be received at that, or some other 
specified time. If nothing is said, it is assumed that the as- 
sembly is ready to receive it immediately. 

At the time fixed, the chairman reads the report, and passes 
it, with all the papers belonging to it, to the secretary's table, 
where it awaits the action of the assembly. 

Any report from a committee may be treated by amend- 
ment, etc., just as if it originated in the assembly. 

The final question is on the adoption of the report; if this 
is agreed to, it stands as the action of the whole assembly. 

3. The third form of committee is the " committee of the 
whole." It embraces the entire assembly. When the assem- 
bly wishes to go into committee, a motion to that effect is 
made, seconded, and put ; if carried, the chairman nominates 
a person as chairman of the committee, who takes his seat at 
the secretary's table. The chairman of the assembly must 
remain at hand in readiness to resume his seat when the 
committee shall rise. The secretary does not record the pro- 
ceedings of the committee, but only their report. A special 
secretary must be appointed for their use. 

The following are the main points of difference between 
the " committee of the whole" and the assembly: 

1. The previous question cannot be moved, but the com- 
mittee may rise and thus stop debate. 

2. The committee cannot adjourn ; it may rise, report 
progress, and ask leave to sit again. 



220 APPENDIX. 

3. In committee a member may speak as often as he can 
get the floor ; in the assembly, but once. 

4. The committee cannot refer a matter to another com- 
mittee. 

5. The chairman of the assembly can take part in commit- 
tee proceedings. 

6. The committee has no power to punish its members, but 
can report them. 

When the committee is prepared to close, a motion is 
made and seconded that it rise; if carried, the chairman 
leaves his seat, the chairman of the assembly takes his usual 
place, and the committee report is given in the same form as 
from a special committee. 

This brief synopsis has been compiled from various sources. 
The excellent manuals of dishing and Matthias have been 
especially consulted. It is believed to embrace all that is 
essential for conducting business in ordinary assemblies. 
The man who masters these simple rules, which may be done 
in a few hours, is prepared to assist in the performance of 
any public business, and if called upon to act as chairman, 
as any one may be, he will be free from embarrassment. 



Sent Prepaid by Post at Prices Annexed. 



4 KIST ©W W©lEi 

PUBLISHED BY 

SAMUEL R. WELLS, No. 389 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. 

st/fp/fp YPJW PF WOTF-PPY- 

American Phrenological Journal and Life Illustrated.— Devoted 

to Ethnology, Physiology, Phrenology, Physiognomy, Psychology, Sociology, Biog- 
raphy, Education, Art, Literature, with Measures to Reform, Elevate and Improve 
Mankind Physically, Mentally and Spiritually. Edited by S. R. Wells. Pub- 
lished monthly, in quarto form, at $3 a year, or 30 cents a number. It may be 
termed tne standard authority in all matters pertaining to Phrenology and the 
Science of Man. It is beautifully illustrated. See Prospectus. 

Constitution of Man ; Considered in Relation to External Objects. 
By George Comre. The only authorized American Edition. With Twenty En- 
gravings, and a Portrait of the Author. 12mo. 436 pp. Muslin. Price, $1 75. 
The " Constitution of Man " is a work with which every teacher and every pupil 

should be acquainted. It contains a perfect mine of sound wisdom and enlightened 

Ehilosophy ; and a faithful study of its invaluable lessons would save many a promis- 
lg youth "from a premature grave. — Journal of Education, Albany, N. Y. 

Defence of Phrenology ; Containing an Essay on the Nature and 
Value of Phrenological Evidence : A Vindication of Phrenology against the Attack 
of its opponents, and a View of the Facts relied on by Phrenologists as proof 
that the Cerebellum is the seat of the reproductive instinct. By Andrew Board- 
man, M. D. 12mo, 232 pp. Muslin. Price, $1 50. 
These Essays are a refutation of attacks on Phrenology, including " Select Dis- 
courses on the Functions of the Nervous System, in Opposition to Phrenology, Mate- 
rialism and Atheism. One of the best defences of Phrenology ever written. 

Education : Its Elementary Principles founded on the Nature of Man. 
By J. G. Spurzheim, M. D. With an Appendix by S. R. Wells, containing a 
Description of the Tem eraments, and a Brief Analysis of the Phrenological 
Faculties. Twelfth American Edition. 1 vol. 12mo, 384 pp. Dlustrated. Price, 
$1 50. 
It is full of sound doctriue and practical wisdom. Every page is pregnant with in- 
struction of solemn import ; and we would that it were the text-book, the great and 
sovereign guide, of every male and female in the country with whom rests the respon- 
sibility of rearing or edimting a child.— Boston Medical and Surgical Journal. 

Education and Self-Improvement Complete; Comprising "Phy- 
siology—Animal ail Mental" — "Self-Culture and Perfection of Character," 
" Memory and Intellectual Improvement." One large vol. Dins. Muslin, $4. 
This book comprises the whole of Mr. Fowler's series of popular works on the 

application of Phrenology to M Education and Self-Improvement." 

Lectures on Phrenology. — By George Combe. With Notes. An 

Bessy on the Phrenological Mode of Investigation, and an Historical Sketch. By 

Andrew Boardmax, M. D. 1 vol. 12mo, 391 pages. Muslin, $1 75. 

These are the reported lectures on Phrenology delivered by George Combe in America 

in 1S39, and have been approved as to their essential correctness by the author. The 

work includes the application of Phrenology to the present and prospective condition 

of the United States, and constitutes a course of Phrenological instruction. 



14 Samuel K. Wells' Publications. 



Matrimony 5 Or, Phrenology and Physiology applied to the Selection 
of Ojngenial Companions for Life, including Directions to the Married for living 
together Affectionately and Happily. Thirty-Fourth Edition. Price, 50 cents. 

A scientific expositor of the laws of man's social and matrimonial constitution : 
exposing the evils of their violation, showing what organizations and phrenological 
developments naturally assimilate and harmonize. 

Memory and Intellectual Improyement, applied to Self-Educational 
and Juvenile Instruction. Twenty-Fifth Edition. 12mo. Muslin, $1 50. 

This is the third and last of Mr. Fowler's series of popular works on the applica- 
tion of Phrenology to "Education and Self-Improvement." This volume is devoted 
to the education and development of the Intellect ; how to cultivate the Memory ; the 
education of the young ; and embodies directions as to how we may educate ouk- 
belves. 

Mental Science. Lectures on, according to the Philosophy of Phren- 
ology. Delivered before the Anthropological Society of the Western Liberal Insti- 
tute of Marietta, Ohio. By Rev. G. S. Weaver. 12mo, 225 pp. Illustrated, $1 50. 

This is a most valuable acquisition to phrenological literature. It is instructive and 
beneficial, and should be made accessible to all youth. Its philosophy is the precept 
of the human soul's wisdom. Its morality is obedience to all divine law, written or 
unwritten. Its religion is the spirit-utterings of devout and faithful love. It aims at 
and contemplates humanity's good— the union of the human with the divine. 

Phrenology Prored, Illustrated and Applied ; Embracing an analy- 
sis of the Primary Mental Powers in their Various Degrees of Development, and 
location of the Phrenological Organs. Presenting some new and important re- 
marks on the Temperaments, describing the Organs in Seven Different Degrees 
of Development : the mental phenomena produced by their combined action, and 
the location of the faculties, amply illustrated. By the Brothers Fowler. Sixty- 
Second Edition. Enlarged and Improved. 12mo, 492 pp. Muslin, $1 75. 

Self-Culture and Perfection of Character 5 Including the Manage- 
ment of Children and Youth. 1 vol. 12mo, 312 pp. Muslin, $1 75. 

This is the second work in the series of Mr. Fowler's " Education and Self-Im- 
provement Complete." " Self-made or never made," is the motto of the work which 
is devoted to moral improvement, or the proper cultivation and regulation of the affec- 
tions and moral sentiments. 

Self- Instructor in Phrenology and Physiology. New Illustrated. 

With over One Hundred Engravings, together with a Chart for the Recording of 
Phrenological Developments, for the use of Phrenologists. By the Brothers Fow- 
iiEB. Muslin, 75 cents ; Paper, 50 cents. 

This is intended as a text-book, and is especially adapted to phrenological examiners, 
to be used as a chart, and for learners, in connection with the " Phrenological Bust." 

Moral Philosophy. By George Combe. Or, the Duties of Man con- 
sidered in his Individual, Domestic and Social Capacities. Reprinted from the 
Edinburgh Edition. With the Author's latest corrections. 1 vol. 12mo, 834 pp. 
Muslin, $1 75. 

This work appears in the form of Lectures delivered by the Author to an associa- 
tion formed by the industrious classes of Edinburgh ; they created at the time consider- 
able excitement. The course consisted of twenty consecutive lectures on Moral Phil- 
osophy, and are invaluable to students of Phrenology. Lecturers on Morality and the 
Natural Laws of Man. Address, Samuel R. Wells, No. 889 Broadway, New York. 



Samuel R. Wells' Publications. 15 



Miscellaneous Works on Phrenology. 

Annuals of Phrenology and Physiognomy.— By S. R. Wells, Edi- 
tor of the Phrenological Journal. One small yearly l2mo volume. For 18G5, '66 
and 1867. The three, containing over 150 illustrations, for 40 cents. For 1867, one 
small 12mo vol., 58 pp. Containing many portraits and biographies of distin- 
guished personages, together with articles on " How to Study Phrenology," 
" Bashfulness, Diffidence, Stammering,'' etc., 20 cents. For 1868, 12mo, 70 pp. 
Containing an elaborate article on " The Marriage of Cousins," etc., etc., 25 cents. 

Charts for Recording the Various Phrenological Developments. 

Designed for "Phrenologists. By the Brothers Fowler. Price, only 10 cents. 

Chart of Physiognomy Illustrated,— Designed for Framing, and for 
Lecturers. By S. R. Wells, Author of New Physiognomy. In map Form. Printed 
on fine paper. A good thing for learners. Price, 25 cents. 

Domestic Life, Thoughts On ; Or, Marriage Vindicated and Free 
Love Exposed. By Nelson Sizeb. 12mo, 72 pp. Paper, 25 cents. 

This is a work consisting of three valuable lectures, part of an extended course 
delivered in the city of Washington. The favor with which they were received, and 
the numerous requests for their publication, resulted in the present work. 

Phrenology and the Scriptures.— Showing the Harmony existing 
between Phrenology and the Bible. By Rev. John Piebpont. Price 25 cents. 
" A full explanation of many passages of Scripture."— New York Mirror. 

Phrenological Guide. — Designed for Students of their own Character. 
Twenty-Fifth Edition. Illustrated. 12mo, 54 pp. Paper, 25 cents. 

Phrenological Specimens ; For Societies and Private Cabinets. For 
Lecturers ; including Casts of the Heads of most remarkable men of history. 
See our Descriptive Catalogue. Forty casts, not mailable, $35. 

Phrenological Bust. — Showing the latest classification, and exact loca- 
tion of the Organs of the Brain, fully developed, designed for Learners. In this 
Bust, all the newly-discovered Organs are given. It is divided so as to show each 
individual Organ on one side ; and all the groups— Social, Executive, Intellectual, 
and moral— properly classified, on the other side. It is now extensively used i.a 
England, Scotland and Ireland, and on the Continent of Europe, and is almost tho 
only one in use here. There are two sizes— the largest near the size of life— in 
sold in Box, at $1 75. The smaller, which is not. more than six inches high, and 
may be carried in the pocket, is only 75 cents. Not mailable. 

Phrenology at Home. — How can 1 learn Phrenology ? Wh at books 
are best for me to read ? Is it possible to acquire a knowledge of it without a 
teacher? These are questions put to us daily ; and we may say in reply, that we 
have arranged a series of the best works, with a Bust, showing'the exact location 
of all the Phrenological Organs, with such Illustrations and Definitions as to make 
the study simple and plain without the aid of a teacher. The cost for this " Stu- 
dent's Set," which embraces all that is requisite, is only $10. It may be sent by 
express, or as freight, safely boxed— not by mail— to any part of the world. 

" Mirror of the Mind ;" Or, Your Character from your Likeness. 
For particulars how to have pictures taken, inclose a prepaid envelope, directed to 
yourself, for answer. Address, Samuel It. Wells, No. 880 Broadway, New York. 



16 Samt;el R. Wells' Publications. 



Standard Wop\k ON Physiognomy. 

Xew Physiognomy ; Or, Signs of Character, as manifested through 
Temperament and External Forms, and especially in the " Human Face Divine." 
With more than One Thousand Illustrations. By S. R. Wells. In three styles of 
binding. Price, in one 12mo volume, 70S pp., handsomely hound in muslin, $5 ; 
in heavy calf, marbled edges, $8 ; Turkey morocco, full gilt, $10. 
This work systematizes and shows the scientific basis on which each claim rests. The 
" Signs of Character " are minutely elucidated, and so plainly stated as to render them 
available. The 6Cope of the work is very broad, and the treatment of the subject 
thorough, and, so far as possible, exhaustive. Among the topics discussed are—" Gen- 
eral Principles of Physiognomy ;" "the Temperaments ;" "General Forms" as In- 
dicative of Character : " Signs' of Character in the Features "—the Chin, the Lips, the 
Nose, the Eyes, the Cheeks, the Ears, the Neck, etc. ; " The Hands and Feet ;" 
" Signs of Character in Action,"— the Walk, the Voice, the Lamjh, Shaking Hands, 
the Style of Dress, etc. : " Insanity ;" " Idiocy ;" " Effects of Climate ;" " Ethnol- 
ogy ;" " National Types ;" " Physiognomy of Classes," with grouped portraits , in- 
cluding Divines, Orators, Statesmen. Warriors, Artists, Poets, Philosophers. Inven- 
tors. Pugilists, Surgeons, Discoverers. Actors, Musicians : " Transmitted Physiog- 
nomies ;" " Love Signs ;" " Grades of InteUigence ;" " Comparative Physiognomy :" 
" Personal Improvement: or, How to be Beautiful:" "Handwriting:" ""Studies from 
Lavater ;" " Physiognomy Applied :" " Physiognomical Anecdotes," etc. 

It is an Encyclopaedia of biography, acquainting the reader with the career and char- 
acter, in brief, of many great men and women of the past one thousand years, and of 
the present— such, for' instance, as Aristotle, Julius Caesar. Shakspeare, Washington, 
Napoleon, Franklin, Bancroft, Bryant, Longfellow. Barnes. Irving. Rosa Boulieur, 
Theodosia Burr, Cobden, Bright, Lawrence, Whately, Thackeray, Knox, Richelieu, 
Dickens, Victoria, Wesley, Carlyle, Motley, Mill, Spencer, Thompson, Alexander, etc. 

Apparatus for Phrenological J_ectuf^es, 

Phrenological Specimens, for the use of Lecturers, Societies, or for 
Private Cabinets. Forty Casts, not mailable. May be sent as freight. Price, $35. 

These specimens were cast from lhiug heads, and from skulls. They afford an 
excellent contrast, showing the organs of the brain, both large and small. Lecturers 
may here obtain a collection which affords the necessary means of illustration and 
comparison. This select cabinet is composed, in part, of the following: 

John Quincv Adams. Aaron Burr, George Combe, Elihu Burritt, Col. Thomas H. 
Benton. Black" Hawk. Henrv Clay, Rev. Dr. Dodd, Thomas Addis Emmet, Clara Fisher, 
Dr. Gall. Rev. Sylvester Graham, M. D., Gosse. Gottfried. Harrawaukay. Joseph C. 
Neal, Napoleon Bonaparte, Sir Walter Scott. Voltaire, Hon. Silas Wright, Water- 
Brain, Idiot, etc. Masks of Brunell, Benjamin Franklin, Haydn, etc. Casts from 
the Skulls of King Robert Bruce. Patty Cannon. Carib, Tardy. Diana Waters. A 
Cast from the Human Brain. A Human Head, divided, showing the naked Brain on 
one side, and the Skull on the other, and the Phrenological Bust. 

The entire list, numbering Forty of our best phrenological specimens, may be packed 
and sent as freight by railroad, ship, or stage, to any place desired, with perfect safety. 

Human Skulls, from $5 to $10, or $15. Articulated, $25 to $60. 
Human Skeletons, from $35 to $75. French Manikins, to order. 
Sets of Forty India Ink Drawings, of noted Characters, suitable for 

Lecturers. Price, $30. On Canvass, in sets, $40. 
Oil Paintings — Portraits,. — can be had to order, from &5 each, upwards. 
Anatomical and Physiological Plates Mounted.— Weber's, 11 in 

number, $50. Trai.l*s, 6 in number, $20. Lambert^, 6 in number. $20. Kbi«- 
loos's, from the French of Bourgeoise and Jacobs. Very fine. 20 in number. $15. 

We can supply all Works on Phrenology, Physiology, Anatomy, Hydropathy, etc., 
Maps, Charts, Manikins, Skulls, Skeletons, and Apparatus, for the use of Lecturers. 



1 

Samuel R. Wells' Publications. 17 



Works on Physiology. 
Food and Diet, A Treatise. — With observations on the Dietetical 

Kegimen, suited for Disordered States of the Digestive Organs, and an account of 
the Dietaries of some of the Principal Metropolitan and other Establishments for 
Paupers, Lunatics, Criminals, Children, the Sick, etc. By Jonathan Pereira. 
M. D., F. R. S. and L. S. Edited by Charles A. Lee, M. D. Octavo, 318 pp 
Muslin, $1 75. 
An important physiological work. Considerable pains have been taken in the pre- 
paration of tables representing the proportion of some of the chemical elements, and 
of the alimentary principles contained in different foods. The work is accurate and 
complete. 

Fruits and Farinacea the Proper Food of Man.— Being an attempt 

to Prove by History, Anatomy, Physiology and Chemistry, that the Original, 
Natural and Best Diet of Man, is derived from the Vegetable Kingdom. By John 
Smith. With Notes and Illustrations. By R. T. Trall, M. D. From the Second 
London Edition. 12mo, 314 pp. Muslin $1 75. 
This is a text-book of facts and principles connected with the vegetarian question, 
and is a very desirable work. 

Hereditary Descent : Its Laws and Facts applied to Human Improve- 
ment. Physiological. By Mr. Fowler. 12mo, 288 pp. Muslin, $1 50. 

Human Yoieo, The. — Its Right Management in Speaking, Reading 
and Debating. Including the Principles of True Eloquence, together with the 
Functions of the Vocal Organs, the Motion of the Letters of the Alphabet, the 
Cultivation of the Ear, the Disorders of the Vocal and Articulating Organs, Origin 
and Construction of the English Language, Proper Methods of Delivery, Remedial 
Effects of Reading and Speaking, etc. By the Rev. W. W. Eazalet, A. M. 
12mo, 46 pp. Muslin Flex., 50 cents. 
This work contains many suggestions of great value to those who desire to speak 

and read well. Regarding the right management of the voice as intimately connected 

with health, as well as one of the noblest and most useful accomplishments ; the work 

should be read by all. 

Illustrated Family Gymnasium. — Containing the most improved 
methods of applying Gymnastic, Calisthenic, Kinesipathic and Vocal Exercises 
to the Development of the Bodily Organs, the invigoration of their functions, 
the preservation of Health, and the Cure of Disease and Deformities. With numer- 
ous illustrations. By R. T. Trall, M. D. 12mo, 215 pp. Muslin, $1 75. 
In this excellent work, the author has aimed to select the very best materials from 
all accessible sources, and to present a sufficient variety of examples to meet all the 
demands of human infirmity, so far as exercise is to be regarded as the remedial agency. 

Management of Infancy, Physiological and Moral Treatment on the. 

By Andrew Combe, M. D. With Notes and a Supplementary Chapter. By John 

Bell, M. D. 12iro, 307 pp. Muslin, $1 50. 
This .8 one of the nest treatises on the management of infancy extant. Few others 
are so well calculated to supply mothers with the kind of information which, in their 
circumstances, is especially neened. 

Philosophy of Sacred History, Considered in Relation to Human 
Aliment and the Wines of Scripture. By Grauajb. 12mo, 580 pp. Cloth, #3 50. 
A work highly useful, both for study and reference, to all who are interested in tht 
great question of Biblical History in relation to the great moral reforms, which are 
acknowledged as among the most prominent features of the nineteenth century. It id 
among the most valuable contributions to Biblical and reformatory literature. " 



Samuel R. Wells' Publications. 



Physiology, Animal and Mental : Applied to the Preservation and 
Restoration of Health of Body and Power of Mind. Sixth Edition. 12mo, 312 pp. 
Illustrated. Muslin, $1 50. 

The title of this work indicates the character of this admirahle physiological %vork. 
Its aim is to preserve and restore health of body and power of mind. The mottc 
is, "A sound mind in a sound body. ,, 

Physiology of Digestion. — Considered with relation to the Principles 
of Dietetics. By Andrew Combe, M. D. Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians 
of Edinburgh. Tenth Edition. Illustrated. 18mo. 310 pp. Price, 50 cents. 

The object of this work is to lay before the public a plain and intelligent description 
of the structure and uses of the most important organs of the body, and to show how 
information of this kind may be usefully applied in practical life. 

Practical Family Dentist. — A Popular Treatise on the Teeth. Ex- 
hibiting the means necessary and efficient to secure their health and preserva- 
tion. Also, the various errors and pernicious practices which prevail in relation 
to Dental Treatment. With a variety of useful Receipts for Remedial Compounds. 
Designed for Diseases of the Teeth and Gums. By D. C. Werner. M. D. $1 50. 

This is a work which should be in the hands of all who wish to keep their teeth in 
• good and healthy condition. The author treats on the subject in a practical manner. 

Principles of Physiology applied to the Preservation of Health and 
to the Improvement of Physical and Mental Education. By Andrew Combe. M. 
D., Physician Extraordinary to the Queen of England, and Consulting Physician 
to the King and Queen of the Belgians. Illustrated with Wood Cuts. To which are 
added Notes and Observations. By Mr. Fowler. Printed from the Seventh 
Edinburgh Edition. Enlarged and Improved. Octavo, 320 pp. Muslin. $1 75. 

" One of the best practical works on Physiology extant." 



With a copious Index and Biographical Sketch of the Author. 12mo. 651 pp. 

Illustrated. Muslin. $3 50. 

We have met with few treatises on the Science of Human Life, especially among 
those addressed to the general reader, of equal merit with this one. The subject is 
treated, in all it< details, with uncommon ability. . . . These lectures will atfoid 
the unprofessional reader a fund of curious and useful information in relation to the 
organization of his frame, the laws by which it is governed, and the several causes 
which tend to derange the regularity of its functions, which he would find it difficult 
to obtain from any other source.— Eclectic Journal of Medical Science. 

Sober and Temperate Life. — The Discourses and Letters of Louis 
Cornado, on a Sober and Temperate Life. With a Biography of the Author, who 
died at 150 years of age. Py Piero Maeon-celli. and Xote= and Appendix by 
John Burdell. Twenty-Fifth Thousand. l(5mo, 22S pp. Paper. 50 cents. 

This work is a great favorite with the reading public, as evinced by the number of 
editions already -oil. The sound principles and maxims of temperance of the "old 
man eloquent. 1 ' are. though centuries have elapsed since hi* decease, still efficient in 
turning men to a sober and temperate life. 

L . 



22 Samuel R. Wells' Publications. 



Miscellaneous Works. 

JEsop's Fables. — The People's Edition. Beautifully Illustrated, with 
nearly Sixty Engravings. 1 vol. 12mo, 72 pp. Cloth, gilt, beveled boards, $1. 
It is gotten up in sumptuous 6tyle, and illustrated with great beauty of design. It 
will conduce to educate the eye and elevate the taste of the young to the appreciation 
of the highest and most perfect forms of grace and beauty.— Mount Holly Herald. 

Chemistry, and its application to Physiology, Agriculture and Com- 
merce. By Justus Ltebig, M. D., F. R. S., Professor of Chemistry. Edited by 
John Gardner, M. D. Twelth Thousand. Octavo, 54 pp. Paper, 50 cents. 

Essays on Human Rights and their Political Guarantees.— By E. 

P. Hurlbut, Counselor-at-Law in the City of New York — now Judge. With Notes, 
by George Combe. Sixth Thousand. 1 vol. 12mo, 249 pp. Muslin, $1 50. 

Fruit Culture for the Million. — A Hand-Book. Being a Guide to the 
Cultivation and Management of Fruit Trees. With Descriptions of the Best 
Varieties in the United States. Illustrated with Ninety Engravings. With an 
Appendix containing a variety of useful memoranda on the subject, valuable 
receipts, etc. By Thom/s Gregg. 12mo, 163 pp. Muslin, $1. 

Gospel Among the Animals ; Or, Christ with the Cattle.— By Rev. 
Samuel Osgood, D. D. One small 12mo vol., 24 pp. Price, 25 cents. 

Home for All ; Or, the Gravel Wall. A New, Cheap, and Superior 
Mode of Building, adapted to Rich and Poor. Showing the Superiority of this 
Gravel Concrete over Brick, Stone and Frame Houses ; Manner of Making and 
Depositing it. With numerous Illustrations. 1 vol. 12mo, 192 pp. Muslin, $1 50. 
_ " There's no place like Ilome." To cheapen and improve human homes, and espe- 
cially to bring comfortable dwellings within the reach of the poor classes, is the object 
of this volume — an object of the highest practical utility to man. 

How to Live : Saving and Wasting, or Domestic Economy Illustrated, 
by the Life of Two Families of Opposite Character, Habits and Practices, in a 
Pleasant Tale of Real Life, full of Useful Lessons in Housekeeping, and Hints 
How to Live, How to Have, How to Gain, and How to be Happy ; including the 
Story of " A Dime a Day." By Solon Robinson. 1 vol. 12mo, 343 pp. $1 50. 

Immortality Triumphant.— The Existence of a God, and Human Im- 
mortality Practically Considered, and the Truth of Divine Revelation Substan- 
tiated. By Rev. John Bovee Dods. 1 vol. 12mo, 216 pp. Muslin, $1 50. 

Movement -Cure.— An Exposition of the Swedish Movement-Cure. 
Embracing the History and Philosophy of this System of Medical Treatment, with 
Examples of Single Movements, and Directions for their Use in Various Forms of 
Chronic Diseases ; forming a Complete Manual of Exercises, together with a Sum- 
mary of the Principles of General Hygiene. By George H. Taylor, A. M., M. D. 
1 vol. 12mo, 408 pp. Muslin, $1 75. 

Natural Laws of Man. — A Philosophical Catechism. By J. G. Spukz- 
heim, M. D. Sixth Edition. Enlarged and Improved. One small 16mo vol., 171 
pp. Muslin, 75 cents. 
George Combe, in that great work " The Constitution of Man," acknowledges that 

he derived his first ideas of the " Natural Laws," from Spurzheim. 

An Essay on Man.— By Alexander Pope. With Notes by S. R. 
Wells. Beautifully Illustrated. 1 vol. 12mo, 50 pp. Cloth, gilt, beveled boards, $1. 



Samuel R. Wells' Publications. 28 



Three Hours' School a Day, — A Talk with Parents. By William 
L. Crandal. Intended to aid in the Emancipation of Children and Youth from 
School Slavery. 1 vol. 12mo, 264 pp. Muslin, $1 50. 

The Christian Household, — Embracing the Christian Home, Hnsband, 

Wife, Father, Mother, Child, Brother and Sister. By Rev. G. S. Weavek. 1 vol. 

12mo, 160 pp. Muslin, $1. 

This little volume is designed as a partial answer to one of the most solicitous wants 

of Christian families. I have for years seen and sorrowed over the absence of Christ 

in our households. Among the Christian people of every sect, there is a sad deficiency 

of Christian principle and practice at home. . . . Why is it so ?— Preface. 

Weaver's Works for the Young-. — Comprising " Hopes and Helps for 

the Young of "both Sexes," "Aims and Aids for Girls and Young Women," 

" Ways of Life ; Or, the Eight Way and the Wrong Way." By Rev. G. S. Weaves. 

One large vol. 12mo, 626 pp. Muslin, $3. 

The three volumes of which this work is comprised, may also he had in separate form. 

Hopes and Helps for the Young" of both Sexes. — Relating to the 

Formation of Character, Choice of Avocation, Health, Amusement, Music, Con- 
versation, Cultivation of Intellect, Moral Sentiment, Social Affection, Courtship 
and Marriage. Same Author. 1 vol. 12mo, 246 pp. Musiin, $1 50. 

Aims and Aids for Girls and Young- Women, on the various Duties 

of Life. Including, Physical, Intellectual and Moral Development, Self-Culture, 
Improvement, Dress, Beauty, Fashion, Employment, Education, the Home Rela- 
tions, their Duties to Young Men, Marriage, Womanhood and Happiness. Same 
Author. 12mo, 224 pp. Muslin, $1 50. 

Ways of Life, showing the Right Way and the Wrong Way. Con- 
trasting the High Way and the Low Way ; the True Way and the False Way ; the 
Upward Way and the Downward Way ; the Way of Honor and the Way of Dis- 
honor. Same Author. 1 vol. 12mo, 157 pp. Muslin, $1. 

Notes on Beauty, Yigor and Development ; Or, How to Acquire 

Plumpness of Form, Strength of Life and Beauty of Complexion ; with Rules for 
Diet and Bathing, and a Series of improved Physical Exercises. By William 
Milo, of London. Blustrated. 12mo, 24 pp." Paper, 12 cents. 

Father Matthew, the Temperance Apostle. — His Portrait, Charac- 
ter, and Biography. By S. R. Wells. Editor of the Phrenological Journal. 12c 

Temperance in Congress. — Speeches delivered in the House of Repre- 
sentatives on the occasion of the First Meeting of the Congressional Temperance 
Society. One small 12mo vol. 25 cents. 



A Library for Lecturers, Speakers and Others.— Every Lawyer, 

Clergyman, Senator, Congressman, Teacher, Debater, Student, etc., who desires 
to be informed and posted on the Rules and Regulations which govern Public 
Bodies, as well as those who desire the best books on Oratory, and the Art of Pub- 
lic Speaking, should provide himself with the following small and carefully selected 
Library : 
The Indispensable Hand-Book . . $2 25 The Exhibition Speaker . . . $1 50 
Oratory. Sabred and Secular . .150 Cnshing's Manual of Parlia. Practice 75 
The Right Word in the Right Place, 75 The Culture of the Voice and Action 1 75 
The American Debater . . . 2 00 Treatise on Punctuation . . . 1 75 

One copy of each sent by Express, on receipt of $10, or by mail, post-paid, at the 
prices affixed. Address, Samuel R. Wells, 889 Broadway, New York. 



























\> - 










































